


Once We Saw Stars

by ehcanuck



Series: Origin of Trust [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Jango Fett, BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, Because this will have 3 or more parts, By the Sith (spoiler? I guess?), Canon-Typical Violence, Catharsis, Character Study, Confronting oneself, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Force Acrobatics, Force Shenanigans (Star Wars), Gen, Getting Together, Given what we know of Mando'a culture, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jango Fett Needs a Hug, Jango should've been all over the kiddos, M/M, Mandalorian Jango Fett, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mind Manipulation, Protective Jango Fett, Protectiveness, SPOILER: inception-type mind diving, Star Wars typical violence, Talk therapy kinda, To fix something you need to identify what's broken first, at least in this story, canon levels of trauma, cathartic angst, i just have a lot of feelings, off-screen canon character deaths, pre fix-it, referenced canon typical shitty clone childhoods, these tags are a lot darker than the fic is, this is just laying the groundwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehcanuck/pseuds/ehcanuck
Summary: In the story that we're familiar with, the story of infinite sadness, both of their individual lives ended in tragedy.Their tales tangled first with the attempted assassination of a popular senator, then by tracking down a poison dart, before ending with a confrontation and dramatic fight on a rain slicked platform. Their accomplishments and sorrows reduced to nothing more than a brief biography of minor notable figures in that abhorrent chapter of Galactic History 101; overshadowed by those they trained.Maybe that would have been the end of it.Maybe they would have been two ships, passing in the night... Provided of course that those two ships were battlecruisers and firing upon each other.However, in this dimension, in this time and in this place, they were instead ships destined to collide.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Origin of Trust [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118165
Comments: 61
Kudos: 265
Collections: Jedi Journals





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A million thanks to those on Discord who cheerleaded me through all of this.**
> 
> **Enormous thanks to timetoucheseternity who beta'd this for me.[Thanks Time!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetoucheseternity/pseuds/timetoucheseternity)**
> 
> **This started with a boat metaphor and was supposed to be a PWP 2000 words long. Tops. Just to get back into the habit of writing, y’know?... It’s currently sitting at 24,000 words and isn't finished! Just, how?**
> 
> **I didn’t want to be heavy handed with the Mando’a - hopefully succeeded. I tried to use the same language dropping that happens among my bilingual family (one side is English, one side is French). When we’re all together, we’ll often use a word or idiom in our mother tongue if the other language doesn't have an exact equivalent because we know that the other person will understand. So while they stick to “Basic”, since Jango knows that Obi-Wan knows Mando’a, he’ll sometimes use the more culturally relevant word or Obi-Wan will.**
> 
> **For American readers, to give a frame of reference for metres since I use them a lot - 1 metre is approximately the length of a baseball bat (a smidge longer than a yard?).**
> 
> **Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing but the bits that are my plot**   
>  **Hope you enjoy.**

In the story that we're familiar with, the story of infinite sadness, both of their individual lives ended in tragedy. 

Their tales tangled first with the attempted assassination of a popular senator, then by tracking down a poison dart, before ending with a confrontation and dramatic fight on a rain slicked platform. 

They were little more than grease for the wheels that turned, grinding, towards terrible galactic conflict. Ultimately, their accomplishments and sorrows reduced to nothing more than a brief biography of minor notable figures in that abhorrent chapter of Galactic History 101; overshadowed by those they trained.

Maybe that would have been the end of it. 

Maybe they would have been two ships, passing in the night... Provided of course that those two ships were battlecruisers and firing upon each other. 

...But the metaphor remains apt.

However, in this dimension, in this time and in this place, they were instead ships destined to collide.

-x-

Upon entering Kamino’s atmosphere, Obi-Wan jerked in surprise as he felt a familiar Force signature reach out for his own. Their connection had been established long ago, forged under trauma and reinforced until it was strong like beskar, iron woven between gossamer threads. Despite the owner of the signature being as Force sensitive as dirt, his presence still unconsciously reached out and wrapped about Obi-Wan’s own; restoring itself once he was close enough. 

A small smile cracked his face and he relaxed for a moment to just enjoy the familiar impression in the Force as it brushed against his own. His… friend had vanished ten years ago and even before that, it had still been several years since they had last truly seen each other.

He had missed this.

Missed the feeling of protection and safety promised by their signatures intertwining, even if those assurances of safety were undermined by the situation that they had been in.

They had first met in the mines of Bandomeer, when the older teen shoved his trauma aside to help the overwhelmed and terrified jetii  tween that had been dropped next to him in the chain gang. They had stuck together for that haran -filled month and a half: keeping watch, sharing rations, and curling up together in a bunk for warmth. When the mine had been liberated, Obi-Wan had lost track of him in the chaos and had been terrified he had died in the fighting. Even with their bond, at his young age and with only minimal training, it had been impossible for him to sense the Force-Null from any great distance. 

It had been to his profound joy and relief that they briefly met again a few months later, when Obi-Wan was trying to save himself from getting mind-wiped on Phindar and Jango swooped in out of nowhere to take out the Syndicate goons. After then, they would run into each other every now and again - though never when Master Jinn was around - briefly exchanging tips, gossip and supplies. The most time they’d spent in one another’s company after Bandomeer was when he helped Obi-Wan and Satine evade and escape Death Watch on Malachor V for several weeks. Obi-Wan had still been an apprentice when he saw him last during the Yinchorri Uprising, one year before Naboo… 

Not that he had seen him for long. The nerf-herder had promptly *absconded* on that dratted ship of his after delivering refugee supplies, before Obi-Wan could even say hello.

Then the man had vanished for 10 years. 

No more coincidental run-ins. No surprise messages from a burner comm. No _dead drops_ when a package would be left behind for pickup. Not even a brief _brush contact_ when he would surreptitiously reverse pick-pocket something useful into Obi’s robes with a note - all without Obi-Wan knowing he was there.

He had thought him dead. 

After the third year, Obi-Wan had grieved for him, _mourned_ him in private, holding those feelings close for days before releasing them into the Force.

And yet here the osi'kovid  was, stumbling back into his life again.

Obi-Wan felt determination surge in him, and he pressed the controls down and gently guided his craft down to the landing strip. This time, this time he would ensure they’d talk.

Gathering his lightsaber and his comm, he exited his craft into the rain and began to walk towards the glowing city lights. Before he could reach the city, he felt the Force tug at him and, following, he found a ship on a hidden platform imbued with _his_ signature. 

He smirked and carefully moved closer to the craft. Slicing had always come naturally to him and he was easily able to get inside and take two small, but crucial, parts of the engine out. He took one of the distributors with him as evidence of his tampering, while he secured the other one back in his own Aethersprite.

It was with the knowledge that the other's ship was disabled, and that his own small ship was grounded due to a heavy storm rolling in, that he went to confront his wayward friend.

-x-

What he found within the waterbound city almost drove the thoughts of his dear friend from his mind.

Clones.

Standing in that small observation room, he stood witness to the movements of thousands upon thousands upon _thousands_ of clones, unique in the Force but sharing that familiar face.

_What had the_ **_di'kut_ ** _done?_

Obi-wan couldn't react, not with the Kaminoans _right there_ , standing about a metre behind him.

Watching.

No hint of shock, of surprise, of fear could make it to his face. Not when he didn’t know how well this unknown amphibious race could read his mammalian one. He could feel a ball of stress grow and writhe in this stomach even as outwardly he suppressed Every. Single. Twitch. 

Not one iota of a reaction, even after he was shown disturbance after disturbance.

Not without giving _something_ away. 

Not without giving away that he had had _no_ idea that this army existed. Not without giving away that the **Jedi Council** had _no_ karking idea that this army existed.

**Not** when he had no clue what the consequences of such a revelation would be - though the fear and anguish that echoed wherever the clones seemed to congregate was telling.

And the Council wouldn’t know - wouldn’t be _warned_ \- until he got away and reported back; ~~if he was even _able_ to ~~ ~~.~~

This impression was reinforced each time his Kaminoan guide, Taun We, opened their mouth, each time he was taken somewhere new, and each time one of their people loomed over him, studying him. These sentients were evidently the sort of scientists who didn't view any others as worth ascribing sentience or value to… If he wasn't a client, and he was trespassing under false pretenses, he imagined they wouldn't hesitate to solve their apparent curiosity about his hair.

Forcibly.

It was only when his last nerve was hanging by a thread, and he was feeling a little wild around the eyes that he was brought to meet the "original host".

-x-

Obi-Wan stared at the door, fist raised from where he had knocked, sensing that fierce and familiar force signature behind it, while a similar but infinitely less jaded one came closer. 

He tried to regain some semblance of serenity while he waited: he consciously stopped shifting his weight and instead rubbed his fingers on the smooth but greasy metal of the distributor in his pocket.

Then the door opened and any serenity he had regained was promptly lost again. _Oh Force_ , that was a child who answered the door. ...The Kaminoans had said that Jango’s payment had been a son, but it hadn’t really clicked for him until that moment.

Another child.

On top of the million or so that were 100 metres away, back down the hall. 

Obi-Wan felt that last strain of patience and sanity almost slip from his metaphorical fingers before he clawed it back with his _teeth_.

Just another child. 

Yep, this was fine. ~~It was **not** fine. ~~

Thankfully, while he was distracted with reigning in his sanity, Taun We had already engaged with the boy and gained an invitation into the apartment. 

He looked around the space as the _ ad  _ called for his _ buir  _ , knowing if he looked at anything too long and saw something _else_ **~~wrong~~ ** , he would well and truly _lose it_. Yes, that was a nice white wall. And look! Another just like it.

Fascinating. 

Then the man of the hour came into the room and they locked eyes. Just like that, it was like when he was thirteen on Phindar and seeing that his protector _survived_ all over again _;_ like all the air in the room was gone and like his words had abandoned him.

Despite having felt the man alive in the Force for the last two hours, he was still somewhat astonished to see him in person, as an actual living being. 

While Obi-Wan’s brain tried to process static, Taun We made small talk, asking after the man’s trip and getting a one-word answer in reply.

“Jango _Fett_?” Obi-Wan breathed out, accidentally interrupting Taun We as he found his tongue once more. 

“That’s right.” Jango said neutrally, none of his feelings showing on his face or in his force presence. 

Taun We interjected, “This is Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's come to check on our progress.”

“That right?” Jango drawled as he rolled up his sleeves... but that’s a distraction, that’s not the point… there! The movement was actually about attracting Obi-Wan’s attention to the minute twitching of his fingers.

[not here] [hostile]

Hmm. Very well then. Pretend to only know one another by reputation it is.

He tilted his head minutely and blinked slowly back, [message received]. “Your clones are very impressive. You must be very proud.”

Message received, however, he could only be so patient and that was _not_ a krayt dragon he was interested in letting lie unchallenged or uncommented on.

Jango’s eye twitched minutely as Obi-Wan continued to press the matter of the clones, though his voice still came out smoothly. “I'm just a simple man, trying to make my way in the universe, Master Jedi.”

Well. That was a blatant non-answer. “Aren’t we all?” He replied as he struggled to keep his face neutral and inclined his head slightly to the _body armour_ lying on the _karking_ floor. Simple man.

_Sure._

Even if he hadn’t known Jango, it would be blatant that he was lying. He did his best to call him on it: to say _pull the other one, it’s got bells on_ using only his eyes. 

Jango grimaced ever so slightly as he registered the mistake and shifted to hide it from view. However, he wasn’t the only one to notice: the Kaminoan was also still there, their eyes watching sharply.

“Ever make your way as far into the interior as Coruscant?” Obi-Wan enquired quickly when Taun We shifted, clearly about to interject. He wasn’t ready to be left alone to his guide’s tender mercies again.

Thankfully, Jango proved still capable of reading his own minute tells and kept the conversation going. “Hmm. Once or twice.”

“Recently?”

“Possibly” Jango replied, his fingers twitching once more [below] [wharf] [1 hour].

[Below] [slave 1] [question] _._ His own fingers twitched back, even as his mouth mindlessly said “Then you must know Master Sifo-Dyas?

Jango’s eyes flashed to Taun We, then he quickly asked Boba to close the door in Huttese, getting the boy out of the Kaminoan’s sight lines while his fingers tapped quickly [confirm]. “Master Who?”

“Sifo-Dyas. Is he not the Jedi who hired you for this job?” 

Obi-Wan felt something _odd_ in the Force as Jango’s voice came out flat “Never heard of him.”

Oh, he did not like the... Twist he sensed there, seeming to press down on Jango. “Really?”

Even as his signature twitched as though in pain, Jango’s voice came out evenly, unbothered: “I was recruited by a man called Darth Tyranus on one of the moons of Bogden.”

**_Darth???_ ** _I_ ~~_hate,_ ~~ **_strongly dislike_ ** _everything about this planet, even if it brought back Jango._ Obi-Wan thought to himself. “No? I thought th…”

Taun We brusquely inserted themself into the conversation, “Sifo-Dyas told us to expect him. And he showed up just when your Jedi Master said he would. We have kept the Jedi's involvement a secret until your arrival, just as your Master requested.”

_Could they be any more blatant that Tyranus was not something they wanted talked about and that they wanted conversation to end?_

Obi-Wan and Jango exchanged a subtle look that was the equivalent of an eyeroll and derisive snort in the mines of Bandomeer - used when there were overseers nearby. 

“Curious.” Obi-Wan said dryly after letting Taun We’s words hang in the air. He opened his mouth to say something biting because he did _not_ appreciate the interruption - for all that the subject change was probably a good idea. 

His Obi’s-about-to-cause-trouble senses likely going off, Jango interjected, “Do you like your army?” 

Obi-Wan mentally sighed ruefully, Jango was probably right to cut him off. He couldn’t even be annoyed due to his relief as the strange Force Twist over Jango dissipated with the change in topic. “I look forward to seeing them in action.”

He gave a small smile, with perhaps a few too many teeth bared. Oh, they would be sparing after this if Obi-Wan had anything to say about it. As soon as it was safe to do so of course. This conversation had been infuriating and his stress levels were almost all the way back to Coruscant, they were so high. 

The man in front of him, as their source, would have to deal with a few hits. 

Likely suspecting where his thoughts were, Jango grinned sharply back. “They'll do their job well, I'll guarantee that.”

Sensing Taun We’s impatience, Obi-Wan inclined his head a little and said “Thank you for your time, Jango.” The slight head incline was not a bow, but the subtle message of [reluctant] [I will wait] _._ Originally that sort of gesture had to do with mine shaft exploration, but Obi-Wan was pretty sure Jango would figure out that he meant the wharf rendez-vous. After all if it had been a full head bow with a hand twist, it would have been [I move on] [trust you to do it] _._

“Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi.” Jango said as he inclined his head slightly in return with a twitch of his nose and left eyebrow, [I rely on you].

Good. 

-x-

Obi-Wan had made his excuses to Taun-We about staying the night on his ship - he hadn’t given advanced warning of his arrival, he couldn’t possibly infringe on their hospitality, etc.

It had taken some doing, but he had eventually managed to go back to his Aethersprite alone. 

After settling in the cockpit, he pulled up his comm then hemmed and hawed over what exactly to send to the Council. Due to the storm, the limits of his ship, and the distance between Kamino and Coruscant, he would have to be very careful about the data packet size. He also had to consider that whatever he sent would also have to be encrypted due to the message sensitivity - which would increase its size.

Each character would have to count.

He eventually sent an encrypted, coded message using a cypher that he, Bant, Quinlan, Luminera, Siri, and Reeft had come up with in their early Padawan years; their coded shorthand would have to do to confirm proof of life. All the actual words in the message needed to communicate what little he could about the urgent twist his mission had taken. 

If the data packet was any larger, it could easily take over a week to transmit. As it was, it would still likely take over a day to reach Coruscant.

There were barely any details within, just 5 words once it was decoded: SDyas, Darth, secret, cloners, and army. That would be enough, it would _have_ to be enough to have the Council investigating _discreetly_. 

Considering the social-political ramifications of the _Jedi_ ordering an army or the danger/complications of someone ordering an army _in_ their name, he wasn’t sure which he preferred.

Either way, this small assassination/investigation had likely become the first priority of the Order, and he would need to gather as many details as possible while being as careful and discrete as possible. 

He looked out the transparisteel at the rain: the storm was picking up and obscuring his sight. That would help. It had been about forty minutes and it would likely take at least ten minutes to discreetly maneuver his way to where he agreed to meet Jango. 

Pushing the seat back, he moved into the small storage area in the back, and pulled out his small travel bag. He changed out of his outer tunic and cloak and into those he regularly used on winter planets - the soft dove grey would blend in better with the rain, and they were more water resistant. 

Hesitating, he also decided to take both distributors back with him. He likely wouldn’t need the leverage to have a conversation with Jango after all, not with the sort of trouble he appeared to be in. Also, they might need to make a quick get-away, meaning the parts that allowed the ship to run needed to all be there too. He wrapped them in an oil cloth, then slipped the pieces into his largest belt pouches.

Before he dropped out of the hatch, he quickly talked to R4 about their contingency plans. As she and he were usually assigned as mission partners, they had these already more or less figured out; but it never hurt to review them and fine tune for the situation.

Once he left, she would do her best to make it look like he was still in the ship to any who came to investigate. The droid was tricky and had fooled cameras before with the ship's lights, audio, and heating systems - hopefully her skill and luck would continue to hold up to any scrutiny. If in 24 hours, Obi-Wan was not back, she would send a message to the Kaminoans saying that he’d received an emergency comm and would come back, then she would go back to the Jedi temple... or earlier if it looked like the ship might be attacked. 

This could very well be a trap and he would need her to lead the others here if it turned out to be one and he was incapacitated. 

Once R4 reluctantly whistled her agreement, he slipped out of the ship, crouching in the shadow of the landing gear and backing up towards the edge of the platform away from the city. He swung over the edge and began to shimmy around the platform, doing his best to ignore the crashing waves and the roaring of the surf below him. 

He didn’t like it, but needs must - there were no cameras this way to catch his movements.

As he shuffled around his platform to where it met the connecting bridge, he spotted a small maintenance ladder. The ladder hung down, slightly over and recessed below the overhang where he clung, attached to one of the piers. If he missed, he would fall in the water and be at the mercy of the waves, but it would be a chance to get to shelter and out of the freezing, driving rain. 

It wasn’t a choice at all. 

To be honest, he could already feel his fingers losing sensation even with the Force bolstering him; he would lose his grip long before he shuffled over to the hidden platform where Jango’s ship was.

Closing his eyes and trusting the Force, he swung his legs a little and let go of the platform ledge at the peak, flinging himself over. He just barely made it, numb fingers just grasping the slickened metal of the bottom third rung. The Force screamed a warning at him, so he quickly scrambled to hook his legs into rungs and clung as hard as he could: stabilizing himself just as a wave crashed over him. 

Then he was underwater. 

He had to repress a gasp as he was suddenly submersed, knowing the reaction would be fatal. The salt stung his eyes while the cold felt like thousands of needles were piercing his skin, leaching heat away from his core. The weight of water as it crashed into him was almost enough to dislodge him from the ladder, the underlying current cajoling him to come along, to follow along to where the wave breaks.

The frigid water thankfully rolled on quickly, leaving him gasping and surrounded by air once more, but soaked. Looking upwards, he could see that the ladder led up to pipes and a hatch.

Quickly scrambling up, he sighed in relief once he had climbed up enough that the ledge of the platform sheltered him from the rain and wind. Now that he was also clear of cresting waves, he took the chance to wipe the water from his face and looked again up at the hatch. He groaned when he saw his luck had not held and that it was droid sized. Maybe when he was a Padawan he could’ve fit, but not now. 

However, as he climbed the last stretch, he was pleased to see that there was a tall enough gap above the metal pipes that ran the length of the bridges and platforms, suspended from thick metal hangers maybe a metre apart. They weren’t structural, likely housing wires or carrying fuel, but if he laid down on them and distributed his weight, they were thick enough that they should support him. 

...It was somewhat ridiculous that he had had enough experience that he could tell this at a glance. 

He climbed as high up on the ladder as he could before he then hooked one leg over and around a rung, and took his hands off to shake them clear of as much water as possible. Once they were as free of water as they could be, he reached up and hooked one around a metal hanger and the other on the overhead handle on the hatch. 

Hands just slightly more than shoulder width apart, he rolled his shoulders a bit and tugged, checking that his grip was as sure and as optimal as it could be. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he relaxed his leg muscles while clenching those in his arms and torso, and did a pull up. At the top of the movement, he let out his air somewhat explosively before slowly breathing in again and holding it, after which he then crunched his legs to his abdomen and swung his legs carefully, slowly over the pipes. 

They held his weight. 

He let go of the breath he had been holding again, repeating the same breathing exercise. Holding his breath as he clenched his muscles, he let go of the hatch and, using his remaining hand and legs to help, did a sit up to get his torso and head up to safety as well. He then slowly spread himself out like a Neimoidian starfish so that his weight wasn’t on any one pipe before he relaxed once more, panting. 

He should try out for the _Cirque de la Lune_ when he’s back at Coruscant with a balancing act like that. 

He didn’t let himself pause for long, his muscles would get cold and stiff if he did. With a groan, he carefully rolled onto his stomach and began to shimmy his way over to the wharf where the Slave I was berthed.

It took longer than he would have liked, but he was eventually below the platform that the Slave I was on at about the time agreed upon. Jango had said _below_ the Slave I so he was in the right spot.

Theoretically.

There was nothing but piers surrounding him and the pipes would certainly not support the weight of two adults along with Jango’s armour/jetpack, so there must be something else… 

Looking around, he spotted a small floating dock below with faintly glowing energy shields around it, likely used for fishing or perhaps diving practice for the clones? With the shields engaged, he wouldn’t be able to get on it though.

Realizing that as he was in the right place at approximately the right time, he could only wait for Jango to arrive. Shivering slightly, he lay still and did his best to slip into a meditative trance: to help conserve body heat and bolster his body with the Force.

He was going to be sick after this, he just knew it. 

It was maybe five minutes later that he felt Jango’s presence nearby and he opened his eyes to peer through the curtain of the rain. He felt more than saw a hidden door open and a shadowy figure step out, with the shields dropping shortly thereafter. Checking first there were no other signatures around and that the figure had Jango’s Force signature, he then launched himself from the pipes to drop down onto the very tail end of the dock. As soon as he landed, the shields went up again, protecting the space from the rain and the waves.

Obi quickly jogged off the dock and out of sight from the above, over to where Jango was standing.

“You couldn’t have picked a drier spot Jango?” He asked as he got closer, out of the rain once more, wringing out his hair and squeezing bunches of his robes.

Once he was within a few metres though, he could see that Jango had his eyes squeezed shut. Confused, he reached out with the Force and was unhappy to discover Jango’s mild distress along with a hint of that disturbing Twist pressing down on him again. 

“You need to be Ben. I can’t think of you any other way and still look at you considering what we have to talk about.” Jango’s eyes were squeezed shut.

Obi-Wan made a noise of confusion and let his sodden cloak go. _Ben?_

“You are Ben, that little boy trapped in the mines with me, and that hapless teen protecting that pretentious, well-meaning Duchess.” Jango continued, his voice a little shaky but clear “A good samaritan with rotten luck. A Force-Null spacer. You’d be an excellent trainer to join us here on Kamino.”

Right, _Ben_ was the alias he would fall back on when he had to be more discrete or was doing undercover work. After the Mandalorian mission, the Council had stopped assigning Qui-Gon those and frankly, Anakin didn’t know the meaning of discretion. He was fond of the righteousness that Anakin brought to his duties; for all that it meant that they were shot at more often. It kept him from getting complacent.

But it also meant he hadn’t been undercover in some time. 

Ben, _right_. He could be Ben.

Obi-Wan shrugged off his sodden cloak and draped it, twisted it around his body, fashioning it into something of a shawl or a stole in appearance. Importantly, it covered most of the iconic Jedi tunic from the front. Satisfied, he ruffled a hand through his hair and beard: trying to look more disheveled and unkempt. The rain had already helped considerably in that regard, he thought ruefully. With a bout of inspiration, he took the distributors from his pouches and smeared the lingering grease, oil, and dirt from the pieces across his face and skin. He slouched a bit, and shuffled slightly in his walk as he began to move closer again stopping maybe a metre and a half away. When he spoke, this time it was with a *Kyuzo accent, not his Coruscantian one.

“Jango, is this better?” He said, doing his best to soften the harsher consonants and stretch the vowel sounds. “I have... hidden as best as I can.”

Jango opened his eyes and looked at him. “Yes, _Ben_ .” He stressed the name, the Twist in the Force still looming, but not pressing down on him as it had seemed to have before with Taun We. “It is good to see you _Ben_ …”

He trailed off for a moment, blinked slowly, then squinted in the low light. He briefly groaned before he continued “...even if you’re giving me _the neutral face of displeasure._ ”

"Do you disagree that you've earned it?" Obi-Wan asked drily, reluctantly amused by the dramatic statement.

"No." Jango said, then added somewhat softer, "No, I certainly have…"

There was silence then, broken only by the rush of rain and the whooshing of passing waves.

“I will be patient Jango, but I would like an answer sooner rather than later.” Obi-Wan started once it was clear that Jango was hesitant to break the silence further. He tried to keep his voice low and steady, yelling certainly wouldn’t solve anything here. “I cannot imagine what would cause the honourable man I knew to do this!”

He restrained himself from pacing on the narrow dock, instead choosing to tick off his points on his fingers. “You broke your promise to go to Little Keldabe and celebrate my Knighting with me once it happened; minor in the grand scheme of things but still unlike you. You _disappeared_ for **10** years without a word. You have apparently abandoned your dreams of re-establishing the True Mandalorians and Jaster’s legacy. I cannot fathom what reason persuaded you to serve as a clone template for a _supposed_ **Jedi** army, a group you have every right to dislike… And most seriously, what could possibly cause you to be so indifferent to the suffering of your _ ade  _ ! Their pain and fear echo everywhere in the Force Jango! That kind of echo takes years to build up like that! Years while you have apparently done _nothing_ .” Despite his efforts, his voice did raise towards the end and those last few words came out with a hostile hiss. _“This place has the same empathetic echoes as a SLAVE MARKET_ . **Jango**!”

Jango flinched; he looked like he had when he had told 12-year old Obi-Wan about Galidraan. Like someone had killed a strill pup in front of him. Like the galaxy had just been torn from under his feet again. Like everything good and worth caring for was gone.

Regret all over his features, Jango’s hands shifted together, as though they were taking apart a Weestar and then putting it back together. A self-soothing technique the Mandalorian had had as long as Obi-Wan had known him. He eventually found the words to croak out: “I need your help… but I cannot tell you. That’s _important_ Ben.” He held up a hand in a stop gesture when Obi-Wan went to interrupt. “I cannot even claim the _clones_ aloud… Can’t call them anything but that! I can barely even _think_ about the word _ aliit _if I’m picturing...ugh!" Jango grimaced and staggered in pain as the Twist suddenly bore down on him, causing Obi-Wan to rush over to his side, to steady him. 

A moment passed by, then two, before eventually that Force Twist uncoiled. Jango reached up his hands briefly to rub his temples before he pushed away from Obi-Wan, his hands resuming that same holding pattern. "I can't, not if I'm thinking about them at the same time! They aren’t **_droids_ ** !" He paused, surprise dancing across his features, and he huffed a laugh. Not a good laugh, one of the sort that's just _laced_ with pain. "They aren't! I have no idea why I can admit that to you when before I could only in the privacy of my own mind! Couldn't even get the words out to Boba! Just.. when awake... when staring down at their hurt and sad eyes, it's like I’m possessed!”

Jango threw his hands in the air as his agitation got to him, and he started to pace in the narrow space. “I can rarely get out a kind word, or even just a _base_ encouragement. I know that they are just as human as I: they bleed, they laugh, they mourn and I would not be able to include myself in that category if I just stood by and watched... But he did something to me so I’m little more than _ demagolka _around them.”

_He?_ Obi-Wan could sense that _Twist_ in the Force pressing closer again to Jango. With each word he seemed to struggle to get more out; biting out words between clenched teeth. 

Hmmm, he said he’d been hired by a _Darth Tyranus_? That was a Sith name if he’d ever heard one - and he had heard many. After his encounter on Naboo, he had delved into the Archives and had learned more than he’d ever wanted about that particularly nefarious Dark Side cult. Their known abilities with mind manipulation could certainly explain some of the difficulties that they were having.

Which meant it had to be dealt with first before Obi-Wan got any answers.

"Jango," he said softly, as he reached forward and grabbed Jango by the shoulders "Stop trying to force it. I understand." 

He quickly thought back for an unrelated memory and said "Think about your time with _Ben_ the wandering spacer, eating phò on Alderaan while adding more and more chilis to one another’s soup."

Jango snorted at the memory while that damnable _Twist_ loosened and went back to its… deactivated hovering.

“Now this is going to take some undoing to unravel, it's hardly my speciality after all.” Obi-Wan said, stroking his beard in thought. “I hardly want to go back into the city...Is there any way we could get to Slave I without anyone being the wiser? My Aethersprite is much too small to be of use here.”

Jango thought and nodded. “Yes, follow me.”

Beside the dock, carved into the building was a series of footholds. It was out past the shields though, so they had to time it very carefully: turn off the shields and scramble up before another wave swell went by.

But they managed.

Once in line with the platform, it was rather simple to jump the gap and catch the edge, pulling themselves up.

After that, sneaking onto Slave I was a cinch. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but sigh in relief as the outer airlock spun shut behind them and hissed as lock engaged. He relaxed fully once up the ladder and the inner hatch banged shut at their feet. Jango crouched to engage the lock and just like that, they were secure against all but the best slicers.

He knew it was psychological, but to be in an ally’s space surrounded by thick walls of metal with locked doors in hostile territory allowed his instincts to take a step back from DEFCON-1 and relax a little.

They quickly walked through the bowels of the ship and storage area, then up another ladder. Jango paused at the second level and then exited into the small kitchen area where he asked, “So what are we going to do? What do you need from me?”

Obi-Wan pulled himself up the ladder behind him. Once he was also in the galley he said: “...If it's not too much of a bother, what I need is some dry clothes. What I want _you_ to do is this: if he’s not already, get your _ ad  _ to spend the night with someone you trust here. Then get a hairbrush and into your comfiest sleepwear then come back down here.”

Jango nodded then brushed past Obi-Wan to get back to the ladder. As he began to climb to the third level, he called out: "...You just want to see if I still have those tooka pyjamas you gave me.” Obi-Wan cracked a smile, appreciating that Jango was clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“I have no idea what you're talking about!” Obi-Wan leaned his head into the ladder space and called up, watching Jango duck into the sleeping quarters. “You should maybe get your head checked. It seems you’ve taken a blow to your skull recently and are imagining things." 

Obi-Wan got hit in the face with a pair of soft cotton pants and a shirt dropped from above while Jango confusedly called back "...I haven't suffered a hit to the head."

"Would you like to?" Obi-Wan teased, laughter in his voice. “We could re-enact that time you startled me on Byss.”

"…no. Byss is why I try to wear my buy'ce  around you!" Jango shouted back dryly, “No demonstration needed.” He ducked back into his space, presumably to change. Obi-Wan did the same in the galley, hanging his soaked things in the attached fresher to drip dry.

He placed the distributors on the counter in plain view then started to investigate the cupboards; they both could certainly use a hot drink.

-x-

Jango had sadly not come back wearing the tooka flannel pyjamas but some lighter cotton ones in a dark blue. He had seen the distributors on the counter and just rolled his eyes at him without verbal comment, his hands flashing instead [you fix] in sign at him.

Obi-Wan had just smirked at him, not deigning to reply (an answer in and of itself) and handed him one of two ceramic mugs. 

They sat down across from each other, relaxing into the u-shaped settee in the small nook that housed the table, warm mugs of shig in their hands.

"This is somewhat atypical." Obi-Wan said once they'd more or less finished, and had banished the chill from their bones. "But I can't tell you what I'm going to do or when. Because if my suspicions are correct, any awareness would combat my efforts if not just outright prevent what I want to do."

Jango drained the dregs of shig and hummed thoughtfully. Obi-Wan was thankful he didn't say yes immediately and instead considered his warning.

"You have more than earned my trust since I've known you…” He said as he placed the cup down. He looked at Obi-Wan seriously before wryly quoting an idiom: _ “Parjai ra rohak, ogir'olar burc'ya haat.  _”

“I’m honoured by your faith in me.” Obi-Wan reached his hand across the table to lightly touch the back of Jango’s where it rested. After a moment, he patted it twice then withdrew his hand and stood up. “Did you bring a hairbrush or comb like I asked?”

Jango blinked, surprised by the non-sequitur but wordlessly pulled out a wide-tooth comb and placed it on the table. 

“Excellent!” Obi-Wan said as he shuffled around the table and nudged Jango until he was sitting between Obi-Wan’s legs and they were pressed together back-to-chest. Instead of immediately picking up the comb, Obi-Wan started by running his fingers through loose, damp curls. His fingers gently picked apart the large knots they ran into before continuing to pass through the now-fluffed strands. 

Back at Bandomeer, slave hygiene was at the bottom of the owners’ priorities, just slightly above the slaves themselves. Obi-Wan and Jango had begun a routine of grooming each other this way, partly for feeling something like clean, and partly to just enjoy the non-violent proximity of another person. Now the routine was just soothing, especially when Obi-Wan started to hum. After a few minutes of finger combing without running into any more knots, Obi-Wan picked up the wide-tooth comb and started all over again. He started to brush out the ends of his hair before switching it up to long luxurious strokes once all the knots were gone.

Then he began to subtly reach out with the Force and closed his eyes. His hands didn’t falter even as he became rather preoccupied.

-x-

Jango was enjoying the repetitive motion of the comb teeth passing through his curls and scratching lightly at his scalp. Any tangles were long since gone; it seemed Obi-Wan was now just indulging his fondness for having his hair played with.

He knew things were a mess, but for now, in this small bubble of time, everything was okay.

He hummed in delight as a languid lassitude settled in his bones.

It was relaxing until Jango _felt_ a crack and there was suddenly wetness growing under his nose even as he fell into blackness.

-x-

He opened his eyes immediately and he was in the marketplace of H'ratth but there weren’t any people around. It was strange to see the normally bustling space so empty of sentients or any sort of activity…

Jango’s eyes darted around while he slowly turned in place: taking in all the details while trying not to be soothed into relaxing by the warm sunlight and the smell of spices on the breeze. 

He spotted no one.

How did he even get here? Something was very off…

Jango put his back to a wall while his fingers drifted down to where his Weestar was usually holstered, but the piece and its holster weren’t there. Come to think of it… he quickly ran his hands over his body, not wanting to take his eyes from his surroundings. 

He was not in his armour...not even his steel-toed and armoured boots! He felt almost naked in the soft cotton clothes and the simple shoes.

A sharp whistle came from the left, causing Jango to spin and suddenly there was Obi-Wan leaning out from under the banner of an open-faced counter restaurant. 

“Jango! Over here!” Obi-Wan was back in his tunics and rather disheveled, but was waving at him with a pleased expression. 

Jango was still on guard and disoriented, but he couldn’t help but relax slightly. He darted across the road at a brisk jog, head still darting back and forth to spot any potential enemies. He ducked under the short noren banner, and breathed deeply as the smell of favourite foods hit his nose. 

Then all the pieces came together.

"You're in my head!" He gasped dramatically and spun, pointing at the other man.

"Not at all, dear one.” Obi-Wan said with a small exhausted smile, pushing the accusing finger down. “You're in **mine.** "

He laced their fingers together, then tugged Jango over to sit at the bar while he ignored the food appearing out of mid-air in front of them. Neither of them touched it; while normally neither would ever waste food, none of it was real. 

“Over that hill is the Sunrider Jedi Academy. I spent a season there with another Padawan, Bant, learning the basics of healing. I received my braid bead for astronavigation and passed my Advanced Negotiation course here. You and I met at this dimsum restaurant to celebrate my 17th lifeday. I have fond memories of this planet… It also helps that its roads are such a confusing warren: positive emotions and a labyrinth setting make it excellent for a mind palace and mental defense.”

Jango spluttered, confused. “Bu-, I-, Wh-... How am I in your mind?”

“I drew you in here to protect you.” Obi-Wan answered after a short moment, picking up a utensil and stirring the food in front of him absentmindedly. “The triggers left in your mind were more insidious than I thought.” 

“Triggers?”

“I wasn’t just brushing your hair Jango, though that was really nice to do again.” Obi-Wan replied, “Given what you told me and from what I could feel in the Force, you had the Dark Side of the Force used on you. It was what was changing your behaviour and your words; from what I read after Naboo, mental constructs like that have all kinds of failsafes to prevent tampering. I was able to circumnavigate some of the traps due to my familiarity with your mind, others because you registered me only as ‘Ben the Force Null’, and others still because you were unaware I had slipped into your mind.”

Jango shifted uncomfortably at the thought, but Obi-Wan had asked for permission as best as he could and he did trust him. “...You disabled the traps?”

“Yes, of course.” Obi-Wan replied firmly, “as many as I could before the main construct became aware of what I was doing and pushed back. It’s why you’re here: so I can protect you from the worst of the psychic backlash and so I can read you in quickly. Ignorance no longer holds value, and you would know your own mind best.”

“So, what do we need to do?” Jango asked hesitantly, this Force business being a bit above his pay grade. 

“When you feel ready, take my hand.” Obi-Wan said softly, holding out his hand. 

Jango took a deep breath, let it out then reached out and slipped their hands together, fingers intertwining. “I trust you.”

Then the world swirled around them and went black once more.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jango to Dooku’s subliminal triggers: HeIsNotaJedi.Nope.NotAtAll. _nO jEdI hERe._ ~~These are not the droids you’re looking for.~~**
> 
> **“The neutral face of displeasure” is from the sitcom _Fresh off the Boat_. Please google the clip or look at the memes, they’re hilarious.**
> 
> ***Kyuzo is comprised primarily of intentionally mispronounced French words from children's books about The Smurfs. So imagine a French person speaking English to get the gist of the accent.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN- This next part will be exploring quite a bit of Jango’s canon backstory (going into detail of my own creation) along with events I added to give him and Obi-Wan a history together. This being the case there’s a LOT of canon trauma and also some additional non-canon trauma for variety. As you might have guessed: this is a chapter that does earn the “canon typical violence” tag. Nothing is graphic and I don’t think I went into enough detail to adjust any of the story tags but if you think I need to add something, please let me know. 
> 
> If it is any consolation, while there is hurt, there’s quite a bit of comfort and emotional catharsis? ~~I'm sorry~~ (Also some things aren’t quite what they seem - inception tag is there for a reason)
> 
>  ****** If you have any concerns, please scroll to the bottom for spoiler warnings ******
> 
> Most planets’ names dropped here or in Chapter 1 that aren’t part of Obi-Wan’s or Jango’s known backstories in canon or Legends, were just me looking at the galaxy atlas/maps and picking a random planet. If you don’t recognize a name, don’t think more into it. It’s probably not important. Same with any names - known acquaintances are a little thin on the ground so when I couldn’t find one or another, I made a name up. 
> 
> Some of the planet geography might also be off, I just wanted to describe diverse from each other types of locations. (Because a number just seemed to be desert planets? And do we really need more of those? And why so many mono-geography planets?)
> 
> Attempted to come up with my own Force technique and the explanation is probably a mess. Sorry.
> 
> Anywhoo, unorthodox character exploration through memory diving and Sith manipulations is a go!
> 
> Enormous thanks again to timetoucheseternity who beta'd this for me. [Thanks Time!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetoucheseternity/pseuds/timetoucheseternity)

******Like stated in the above note, please if you have any content concerns, scroll to the bottom for spoiler warnings ******

**Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing but the bits that are my plot**

**Hopefully you enjoy.**

It was only a moment or two before the blackness became swirls of colour, then solidified into... Jas'buir's  library. Everything was there as he last remembered it: the warm lights shining out from alcoves high above, the long couch with the bantha wool blanket draped over it, Jaster’s tidy wooden desk in the corner, and the great shelves that lined the walls holding favourite holobooks and older, _precious_ , flimsi books. With Jaster’s death, he had sold many of the commonplace books, and donated the rare ones to a museum for future preservation, keeping only a few for himself. 

Then those last few items he had of Jaster were lost at Galidraan. 

He ran a hand over the book spines, smiling fondly at the few titles that stood out. Jango took down a well-worn book on faerie tales and opened it to the story about the Tooka saving an emperor, lost a bit in his memory.

“It’s not the biggest mind space I’ve seen,” Obi-Wan commented from behind him, “but it is one of the coziest. Using books to guard your thoughts is also quite clever.”

“It wasn’t my idea, at least not intentionally. Jaster was the one who showed me some tricks for protecting the mind. Guess that influence subconsciously shaped the space.” Jango didn’t look up from his book as he replied, “I’m just glad it still exists in some form, somewhere. Jas'buir  was so proud of this place.”

Obi-Wan smiled softly, a hand absently going to tug at a braid that wasn’t there over his right ear. “Yes, I rather say that I know exactly what you mean.”

“This is probably not the time to reminisce,” Jango said as he closed the book with a gentle snap, “that’s not why we’re here. How do we begin… whatever it is?” 

“Each mind is different,” Obi-Wan shrugged; eyes scanning the room, watching the shadows warily. “Before the Sith construct recognized my presence and activated its defenses, your mindspace was an enormous aliit’yaim , and this room had doors. Mostly what I needed to do to dismantle the minor traps and triggers left behind was go room to room and find what didn’t belong in the space then remove it…” He trailed off and mused to himself, rubbing a hand thoughtfully at his beard: “You should probably actually see a Mind Healer to make sure I got it all…”

Shaking his head, he brought his attention back to Jango, “But that’s a problem for another time. As I removed what Sith nonsense I could find, I also set up my own shields around the cleared spaces I left behind.” Obi-Wan moved closer and put a reassuring hand on Jango’s shoulder, though he didn’t look at him, eyes watchful of the space around them. “From my admittedly limited knowledge, that we are restricted to this study is actually a good sign - it means that the main construct has been isolated as well. I’m also hoping I dismantled enough of it that it is no longer able to manifest itself enough for physical attacks - having the shadows rise up against me was quite unnerving... So now we just need to find its main roots.”

“You really need to work on your delivery of bad Force osik ,” Jango commented wryly after a moment. “That explanation was just barely reassuring and mostly confusing.”

“This is your mind Jango, you know what should be here and where things are, even if it's just subconsciously.” Obi-Wan turned his head slightly to smile reassuringly at the other. “From here we should be able to find what has been used to root it in place.”

Jango’s eyes roved skeptically over the spines of the books, all of the titles seemed to be in the right place… the carpets matched his memory, as did the couch and the desk. But if it was a hiding place…

He strode over to the desk and pulled out the chair, then he poked his head underneath. When he was younger, he had hidden away from the galaxy under the desk while Jaster worked, he reached up a hand to run gentle fingers over names he’d carved there… _Myrtte Fett, Jakin Fett,_ and…

_Arla Fett._

Then as his eyes adjusted to the gloom under the desk (the space much larger and deeper than he remembered) he began to see dozens and dozens more names of those who’d marched ahead ~~who’d he’d failed~~ carved into the wood in seemingly random order: Silas, Rozatta “Roz”, CT-3281, Alpha-9, Dices, Spot, Sheekta Tull, GanVel, Leeka, Jaster Mereel, CC-2291, Ando Guo… shaky fingers reached to trace each one, until they settled on one.

WakPif. The Meerian had helped Jango when he’d first been sold into the mines, teaching him the signs that they used to communicate, how to prevent injury, protect vulnerable skin, and make scant rations last. ****

He had lost the other in the collapse of an exploration drift tunnel.

As his fingers traced over his friend’s name, there was a sensation of a _click_ and from the side panel, faint blue light grew until he was looking down into a dark earthen tunnel, with barely any light illuminating the place. 

“Obi-Wan,” he called out hoarsely from under the desk, his mouth suddenly dry. “found something.”

Once he came over and got a look at the glowing square, Obi-Wan replied, “Yes... I dare say you did.” He now seemed torn between looking over his shoulder apprehensively and looking at the space under the desk. 

“So, what do we do?” Jango asked, hesitating. He had a rather bad feeling about finding the entrance to a fairly ominous tunnel and his full litany carved into his childhood safe place. 

“I don’t much like this paradoxical door,” Obi-Wan commented slowly. “It’s rarely a good sign when the mind has unrelated connections... Especially as the construct has stopped making itself known to either of us... From what little I know, I think that that leads us from your mind space into your memory…” He shrugged and with a failed attempt at nonchalance commented, “Or perhaps you have two different mind spaces - your house and wherever _that_ is, but hopefully not… that sort of mental divisiveness is never a good thing…” Obi-Wan sighed, running fingers over his beard, a nervous tic of his. “Regardless, if we go that way, we are just as likely to find what we’re looking for as we are to walk directly into the Sith construct’s trap; doing exactly what it wants…”

“It’s sentient?” Jango asked, confused and alarmed. He had been sharing his _head_ with another creature?! 

“Only in a manner of speaking,” Obi-Wan commented dryly. “These sorts of mental manipulations are only sentient in the way a basic class-four security droid would be. It has its instructions and will do its best to implement them but cannot think for itself or change its orders…” He squinted down at the tunnel, an apprehensive expression on his face. “I hate to say it, but the best way to get rid of such a trap is to spring it.”

“The only way out is through?” Jango commented wryly, his one hand absently signing along with the common slave refrain. 

Obi-Wan tapped him twice on the shoulder, then traced a circle with two fingers [Yes][with you] while he agreed “The only way out is through.”.

“Kark.” Jango grabbed the hand on his shoulder with his left hand - he didn’t want to accidentally leave Obi-Wan behind somehow and the reassurance was nice - while he reached out his right hand through the glowing space. He met unexpected resistance at first, like moving through Kashyyykian syrup, so he put more muscle into it only for the pressure to suddenly vanish causing him to fall through with a yelp. 

While he managed to recover slightly - rolling to reduce his momentum - Obi-Wan, who was suddenly pulled through after him, did not manage to do so in time and instead landed on top of Jango.

Jango stared up at the ceiling as the glowing blue square winked closed and disappeared from existence. 

...He hated Force osik . 

-x-

They extracted themselves from the pile of limbs fairly quickly, both of them cringing at the feeling of slimy, slick rock, and of wet dirt between their fingers and on their skin. Now that they were actually in the tunnel, they could see a hovercart floating nearby along with the groove marks in the walls made by simple pickaxes and the occasional marks made from desperate, grasping fingers. Obi-Wan turned to his left and easily saw the end of the tunnel just a few metres away - along with the two tall purple Meerians and a smaller green Bardottan who were working there. His eyes adjusting to the darkness, he spied the heavy metal collars around their necks and the cuffs on their wrists. 

Getting a rather _bad_ feeling, he quickly twisted to look back down the tunnel and spotted an Imbat guard in moderate armour crossing in front of the entrance, hand on their blaster and seemingly on patrol...

Then the pungent smell of ionite hit him and he knew exactly where they were. 

Obi-Wan thumped a fist against the wall and groaned in frustration, “...Bandomeer.”

“Bandomeer.” Jango agreed flatly, his mouth twisted in a grimace, “And I think I even know when.”

“Oh? Do tell.” Obi-Wan said casually, though his tone betrayed his nerves; the _bad_ feeling intensifying in his stomach. It was somewhat hard to tell if it was a Force warning or if it was just from being back down here, enclosed in the cold, damp tomb. 

He moved closer to where the trio laboured and spied a deliberate space beside the one Meerian along with a set of cuffs, a collar, and a pickaxe - just in a smaller size, meant for smaller species or a young teenager…Obi-Wan picked up the cuffs off the ground and felt the Force presence echo - _Jango._ The shadows seemed to grow and deepen around them as Obi-Wan stared in remembered horror and Jango picked up the pickaxe and twirled it absently between his hands. 

“Ando Guo,” Jango said, moving closer as well as he gestured at the exhausted looking Bardottan, “was new and made a smart comment just a little too loudly near one of the guards… As a punishment, he was assigned to work in the new mine and its exploration drift tunnel - and as part of his mining team, WakPif, GanVel, and I had to share his punishment. We were there for all of a week. This was a new rig, a couple of klicks out from the one where we met - the Offworld Mining Company wanted to open up an ambitious new mine to exploit a possible nearby vein of ionite. The supposedly enormous deposit also happened to be near an underwater volcano, so any slaves sent there were typically those guards didn’t like or that were trouble makers.”

Obi-Wan blinked, somewhat confused and _very_ apprehensive. “When I arrived at Bandomeer, they only had the one rig with tunnels underneath the relatively stable abyssal plains.” 

“No, you wouldn’t have known about this one. It was frankly a death sentence in disguise to start with, nevermind what actually ended up happening.” Jango swallowed hard, reaching out to touch WakPif’s shoulder and frowning deeply when instead his hand went right through. “I didn’t like to talk about it and, well, back in the barracks I was the only one who _could_ have. This mining branch was more dangerous due to sudden seismic activity from the nearby active underwater volcano and vents. However, as far as Offworld was concerned, the risk was worth it due to the enormous deposits all around them from ionite being spat up in the flowing magma out over several decades.” Jango trailed off, his face aged with old grief and… was that _fear?_

“If I’m right, this is the day when a nearby tremor combined with bad luck caused the mine to collapse.” Jango finished, words falling numbly off his tongue. 

“...What.” Obi-Wan said flatly. 

“The collapse.” Jango repeated himself. “This whole quadrant of tunnels is breached.”

“Force _dammit_.” Obi-Wan cursed, his hand reaching out to grab Jango’s wrist to tug him somewhere safe only to pause when he didn’t know which way to go. “Normally memories would not have the power to hurt when mind walking, but, with the Sith interference, I don’t trust that we’re safe!”

Before anything more could happen or be said, without any warning the ground began to shake just a little, but enough to be noticed. Within seconds, the tiny movements rapidly became violent then there was a massive **jolt** that followed - causing everyone to stagger or fall as the large tremor rolled through the ground. Clouds of dust fell from the ceiling making it hard to see or breathe while the ground bucked and groaned. 

Then it was over.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Jango commented fatalistically to Obi-Wan, gesturing to where a large crack was growing larger by the second from where GanVel’s pick dug into hard rock. The hapless Meerian had either hit a faultline in the dark stone or had worsened the damage caused by the tremor. “This is when things go… rather badly.”

Obi-Wan froze along with Jango and the spectors in Jango’s memory to watch that damning crack grow. 

Then there was a terrible creaking sound that passed overhead, followed by a deep groan from the stone surrounding them. For a moment, there was nothing. Nothing but silence like the long indrawn breath before a scream. 

Then the stone buckled and rocks started to fall. 

Deep sea mining was dangerous for several reasons, but two of the nastiest were coming into play here: the scarcity of heavily rationed air, and also that in the case of a collapsed tunnel, there was at least a kilometre’s worth of water above them - and that much water is heavy. When the rock collapsed, the weight of water wasted no time in exploiting that weakness and rushing in to fill the empty space. 

Obi-Wan grabbed Jango’s hand and started to run, trying to escape what was inevitable.

-x-

Jango felt panic in his chest rise, fear dulling his reflexes and causing him to freeze at the sight of the impending disaster. 

This moment had lived in his nightmares for decades; of feeling the heavy cuffs slow him down, hearing the cries of his workmates, the brush of falling - _crushing_ \- stone that he just barely managed to avoid, and hearing the rush of more and more and more and more water pushing into the space, getting faster and _louder..._

He had barely survived the first time by sheer **_dumb_** _luck_ ; how could he arrange the survival of TWO of them when he hadn’t been involved in saving his own scrawny butt the first time?

The first time, Jango had just been lucky: so so _so_ dang lucky that truly the ka’ra  must have been watching over him that day... He had immediately gotten swept up in the roaring waters and carried down the exploration drift tunnel and into the main level. He had somehow avoided being hit by any debris and had stayed close to the surface, able to gulp the rapidly diminishing precious air amidst the rising water line. The waters had rushed him this way and that until the current he had been caught up in, shoved his body right into the small opening of the skip shaft. Considering how terrible everything had been in his life that last year: the fact that he was level with the shaft opening, that the doors were open, and that he was the right size to fit through them was beyond fortuitous. Especially when the rapidly rising waters had given him an express ride to the surface. 

He had been the only survivor of that terrible disaster. 

Of course, as a slave, Offworld didn’t exactly care about his mental health and just sent him back to the other rig to be sent back down less than 24 hours later.

Honestly, Obi-Wan arriving there a few days later had probably been the only thing that had kept him from giving up entirely. 

Now here he was, facing down the crushing water once more. This time he was a lot more experienced and maybe even a little wiser… though that experience mostly just gave him an even greater sense of terror, the fear seated deep in his chest.

He was almost thankful when Obi-Wan stumbled and fell with a panicked cry as they ran, because his mind instantly let go of that overwhelming fear. Letting go - finding a moment of mental peace and quiet - was what allowed his instincts to push him past was shaping up to be a terrible panic attack and his reflexes to move his body to do actually useful things.

Knowing they had only moments, Jango slammed the rock pick still in his hands into the ground as hard as he could while he took the cuffs from Obi-Wan and cuffed their off-hands together, wrapping the chain around the embedded pick. In that last second, he grabbed the hovercart and flipped it over their bodies, encasing them in darkness and hopefully trapping some of that precious air in a bubble with them. 

“Kenobi!” He roared as the water reached them, his voice just barely heard among the terrible cacophony of crashing rock and thundering flood. “If you can make a water breaker in front of us, that would be ideal!” He wrapped his legs around Obi-Wan while his shoulders braced the hovercart in place and his hands braced the pick itself in a desperate attempt to keep them from getting swept away. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes were wide and frightened, but he threw out his free hand with an expression of concentration. Within seconds, the increasingly crushing weight Jango had felt against the cart lessened as the water broke itself against the shield of Obi-Wan’s will. 

The seconds dragged themselves by like hours as the water rushed in to fill the empty space and level out above them. As the water at last closed overtop of the hovercart, the sudden silence was almost jarring. 

Jango relaxed a little, then when the cart didn’t move with the force of water, he relaxed fully, slumping into Obi-Wan’s form below him with a groan. 

Their air bubble and sanctuary had held. 

-x-

With the initial surge of water past, it was much easier to passively keep up the small Force shield around them, allowing Obi-Wan to take in the situation he was now in. 

He couldn’t see Jango - there was no light underneath the cart, but considering they were two adults crammed underneath a cart that was maybe - generously - 2 metres cubed… he could certainly _feel_ their bodies flush together and Jango’s legs tight around his waist. 

He patted the leg closest to his right hand, hopefully somewhere close to his knee. “You don’t need to anchor me anymore my friend.”

“Right.” Jango said hesitantly and began to shift around, presumably trying to find a way to untangle them without putting an elbow in Obi-Wan’s gut. 

They eventually managed to settle, bodies bracketing each other in the small space while Jango set about blindly picking the lock on the cuffs to give them back the use of their off hands. 

“This is either madness or brilliance.” Obi-Wan looked upwards, unseeingly but still wondrously at the air around them “Either way, it was certainly some clever quick thinking to create a diving bell air pocket.” 

“Thanks,” Jango gruffly replied before wiggling a bit more. “...Could you get your jetii’kad or whatever is out from under my back.” 

“I’m afraid to say that neither my ‘sabre nor any of the backup weapons that I carry came with me into this space.” Obi-Wan said ruefully. “It might be a hunk of ionite though.”

Obi-Wan reached his free hand over to Jango, tracing a hand down his chest until he found the seam where body met earth. Jango obligingly shifted so his weight was off his side in what was surely an uncomfortable sort of side-plank while Obi-Wan wiggled his hand under his torso. It took a moment of blind flailing before he pulled out what felt like a small sealed box and two thin segmented pieces of metal attached to gloves. 

“Thanks” Jango commented before there was a faint click. “Got my hand free, should have yours out too in a moment.”

Making a small sound of acknowledgement, Obi-Wan first checked the box, running his fingers along the seam until he found a latch. Popping it open, he was pleased to hear the faint squelching sound of a breaking seal - whatever was inside then was dry. Running his hand along the inside, he found five tubes; one of which he then held up to his nose. Magnesium. These were likely flares of some kind.

He closed the lid and closed the latch, resealing it before he pushed the box inside his tunics for safekeeping. He then used his free hand to run his fingers instead along the synthleather. Even without his eyes, he easily identified the places where metal plates had been fitted and attached, and the places where additional padding protected the parts that the armour didn’t cover. 

Jango made a faint victorious sound as there was a faint click and Obi-Wan’s hand slipped free of the cuff. Using his other hand, Obi-Wan pulled on one of the gloves briefly and confirmed his suspicion. 

Gauntlets. 

“Jango.” He commented as he pulled the gauntlet back off. “I think you might want these.” He then reached out until he found Jango’s arm and followed it down to the other’s hand which he then guided to the two gauntlets sitting on his chest. 

Jango made a euphoric sound upon realizing what they were and quickly put them on. “Vor entye ! It’s no cuirass or buy'ce  but being without any semblance of armour - nevermind being without true beskar'gam  \- was making me antsy.”

“Yes. I remember you saying before… ” Obi-Wan commented dryly, his own memories of Bandomeer and of long conversations in the dark coming to mind. “I don’t think I ever thought to ask but once you were free, were you able to recover your armour?”

Jango huffed a laugh, “Yes. I managed to recover it from the shabuir Governor at Galidraan, though he’d painted over the Aliit  insignias. But paint can be fixed; I was so relieved he kept it as some sort of sick trophy instead of melting it down or selling it.”

“I’m happy for you.” Obi-Wan replied. “I know how devastated you were when you had your beskar'gam  stolen from you.”

“...Jaster said so long as I had it, that I would be able to remember the way back home, back to our Aliit  and yaim .” Jango said quietly, morosely. “But they’re all gone. I have the beskar'gam  but my yaim  is gone, my Aliit  went marching on without me.” 

He trailed off before clearing his voice roughly, “So now what?”

Now what indeed, Obi-Wan mused. They were at least a kilometer below the surface with limited air and no exit that he was aware of. They would need to hop to another memory, but how to do that?

His mind racing, he was reminded of the flares and the pieces of ionite sharing their small shelter. Aloud, he asked “Ionite… it can be explosive, correct?”

“Yes it is.” Jango commented warily, probably giving him a concerned side-long glance. “In the right concentrations or if refined a certain way, it has the capacity to become a class 5, grade R2 explosive.”

“Well, it is something we have here in decent amounts.” Obi-Wan commented with a reckless grin. “It seems to me, in order to find our way into another memory, that we need to find ourselves another door.”

“That’s crazy.” Jango commented. “I do **not** want to set off explosives in my mind! The low oxygen is getting to you, y-you crazy osi’kovid !”

“Crazy enough to work!” Obi-Wan countered. “Probably. It’s an educated guess?”

“Well, I don’t want your educated guess to blow up my brain!” Jango retorted. 

“We’d be setting off imaginary memory explosives in a memory.” Obi-Wan soothed, “It’s not real.”

“If it’s not real, then why can I feel the weight of the water pushing down on the cart and why are we in danger of drowning?” Jango snarked back. 

“Minds are weird. Expounded by Sith nonsense.” Obi-Wan answered, shrugging his shoulders. This would work, he could _feel_ it. “Besides, do you have any other ideas? We do need to do something, eventually there will be more carbon dioxide in here than oxygen...”

Several moments passed before Jango reluctantly answered, “No, I don’t…”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something when Jango continued, “Fine. But if this does scramble my brains, you have to look after Boba and the clones. Promise?”

“Nothing will happen.” Obi-Wan reassured, “but if something does, you have my word that I will do everything in my power to ensure their safety.” 

“Good, good. Okay then... ” Jango said, relief palpable in his voice before he sardonically breathed. “Oya  vod .”

“Oya  vod!” Obi-Wan said much more cheerfully. “We should be able to portage the cart - between the Force and keeping the cart level, we should be able to keep the air bubble intact.”

“We’re going to look a demented Byssian turtle.” Jango commented though he started to shuffle back so he was on the other end of the cart while Obi-Wan drew in his legs to make room. 

“Nonsense.” Obi-Wan replied, “we’ll only have four legs between us and no feathers… A demented puffer turtle from Clak'dor VII perhaps.”

“You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes at you.” Jango said. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. You?”

“Yes. On three then?” Obi-Wan replied. 

“Not getting any younger.” Jango responded. “1, 2, 3!”

On three, they slowly stood until Jango was fully upright and Obi-Wan was still somewhat hunched to keep the cart level - accounting for the 6cm difference in height between them.

Dark waters circled and swirled around their chests and legs with the odd debris bumping up against them; the air bubble only filling the space to the tips of their shoulders. Despite it being pitch dark, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but to look down as he placed his feet, trying to spot any rocks or obstacles before he stumbled into them.

He led them forward, the Force circling around them to reduce the water pressure acting against them, warning him of any major trip hazards and also to sense where it was they needed to go.

They slowly managed to move about 20 metres, to approximately where the exploration drift tunnel met the main line. Except, instead of finding an open passage, there was instead a massive pile of rock and debris blocking the way.

“Now what?” Jango asked once Obi-Wan relayed his findings to him.

“Now,” Obi-Wan said with all the enthusiasm, drama, and gravitas of someone who has caused one too many explosions, “Now, we ignite the magnesium flares and set them against the exposed ionite.”

Jango gave a big sigh, as if all the life was leaving his body. “...Fine.”

“Onwards then!” Obi-Wan said, taking one hand off the side of the cart to reach into the front of his tunic where he’d shoved the box for carrying purposes. Then, balancing the cart against his head and shoulder, he slowly let go with his other hand and opened up the box. He delicately twisted the cap off the end and turned it so that the rough end was towards the now exposed magnesium. 

“Watch your eyes!” He warned, closing his own and striking the cap against the end - the same way one would strike a match. Even with his eyes closed, he could see the bright flare of white light as it ignited. 

Obi-Wan then reached out with the Force and quickly tossed the flare towards the shatterpoint - the nexus of possibility - that he could sense. To be sure, he then rapidly repeated the process with the remaining flares, igniting one after another. 

As each flare entered the water, they spluttered a bit, and when Obi-Wan tossed the last, he opened his eyes to watch as the almost-blindingly white light softened into warm reds and oranges with the addition of the water to the reaction. 

Putting his hands back to the sides of the cart, he turned his head to where he had tossed them - their warm glow breaking through the darkness and illuminating the base of a massive pile of rock. With each passing moment, he could sense the Force winding tighter, the potential building as the heat and magnesium began to react with the ionite. 

“I hate this.” Jango commented, shifting his weight behind him and jostling the hovercart. “The deep breath before the plunge.’

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied absently, his focus on the Force and on maintaining the shield in front and on top of them. “That moment where everything is starting to move but you have to wait.”

The lights started to fizzle out one by one, but the Force grew only more excited. 

“Brace yourself.” Obi-Wan warned, “Here… we… go.”

Then the world erupted around them with a bright flash, a cloud of bubbles and a muffled wh-UMPH!

When the dust settled, Obi-Wan was just able to spot the bottom edge of a glowing portal amidst the rubble, looking from up high on a wall down into a white space. 

“It worked.” Obi-Wan said breathlessly, commenting because Jango probably couldn’t see it, turning his head to grin back at him. “It WORKED!”

“Great.” Jango said, looking somewhat shakily back at him. “Glad my brain’s in one piece and we can get out of here.” 

“We’ll have to abandon the hovercart.” Obi-Wan said ruefully. “Keeping it level when going up an incline with the taller person in the front will be frustrating to figure out for a few more seconds of advantage. If we hold our breath and swim for it, I’ll keep protecting us against the water pressure.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jango said, holding out a hand. “Together then?”

“Together.” Obi-Wan said and reached out a hand to take Jango’s, “Let’s go.”

They tossed the cart to the side while they swam out and Jango took the lead, pulling Obi-Wan slightly behind him as the Jedi focused on keeping the water from crushing them without the buffer of the cart. 

It was less than a minute, but also an eternity to get in front of the glowing square. Wasting no time, Jango thrust a hand through the space visibly fighting some resistance for a moment before it gave. 

It was a bit like taking out the plug out of the sink he supposed, as the invisible barrier keeping the two spaces apart vanished and the water quickly washed them through the softly glowing doorway. They fell through from high up the side wall, rushing water falling down on top of them for several seconds before the doorway between the two memories closed. 

Obi-Wan let out a breathless laugh from where he laid in the too-large puddle, raising a fist joyfully before letting it thunk back to the ground. His breathing slowed as his lungs drew in enough air and he turned to look at Jango with a smug, victorious look on his face. 

“Ka’ra” Jango grumbled, a small smile on his face as he caught his breath. “Fine! You were right … but your plan was still nuts.”

They laid there for a moment to recover from the adrenaline, catching their breath and regaining their bearings. 

“Obi-Wan,” Jango commented hesitantly, his expression uncertain as he caught Obi-Wan’s eyes with his own. “I noticed this a bit in Jas'buir's  library and definitely in the mines but… my emotional control is **shot**. I can’t help _but_ to feel things when before I would be able to push it away.”

Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully and turned his head to look back up at the ceiling to think. After a moment, he looked back at Jango. “I would suspect that because we are in your mind and thus - in many ways - so much closer to the memories and the emotions you felt the first time living them. So you’re not only coping with your own feelings about things, but also needing to handle your feelings at the time.”

“Ugh.” Jango grumbled. “Feelings.”

“Emotions do needlessly complicate things at times.” Obi-Wan replied, teasing. 

They laid there for another moment or two before Obi-Wan sat up and took in his surroundings: he was surprised to see they were in one of the seemingly endless hallways of Kamino. There was nothing aside from the interspaced doors and no one around except a lone MSE droid scooting around, freaking out at the water puddling on the floor. 

Obi-Wan got up and then offered Jango a hand up; Jango picked a direction seemingly at random and they began to walk, rapidly drying in the way that dream logic allows for once you stop paying attention to something. 

It is only a few minutes later that they passed in front of a door that caused Jango to freeze and move towards it - subconsciously drawn towards it. 

Obi-Wan was quick to close the distance and was only a beat behind as Jango went through the door. The first thing he noticed was the scent, carried on a waft of air that hit them as the door opened - underneath the smell of ocean salt and ionite… Obi-Wan knew that smell, he’d lived through too many war zones not to.

The ion smell of blaster fire, blood, and burns.

The next thing that immediately jumped out at him was the contrast between the bright white hallway and this darkened stairwell. It was jarring in a horror-holo sort of way: lights flickering with water dripping ominously as they descended. 

After a flight or so, they reached a landing that overlooked the ground floor… and the pile of bodies there. 

“I did this.” Jango confessed quietly, breaking the silence. “They were among those I recruited to be part of the Cuy'val Dar, trainers for the verd’ika. Despite their Death Watch leanings and my misgivings, I was made to take on Dred Priest, Isabet Reau, and their crew. They were harsh but the verd’ika  seemed to be doing well under them.”

Jango leaped over the railing and fell to the floor below, rolling to absorb the momentum and popping to his feet. He nudged one of the several blasters littering the floor with a foot, its power cell flashing empty. “Then I found out. The cadets that I had given to their care… they were using them for a bit of _entertainment_ .” Jango spat the word out, utter repulsion dripping from the word. “Just some _sport_ , nothing to get _upset_ about. Just an underground fight ring at night where the cadets would be forced to beat each other until they were told to stop.”

Jango turned and looked up at Obi-Wan, anguish in his eyes. “I only found out after one of the other cadets went to Mij for help when little CT-3281 wouldn’t wake up afterwards.”

He nudged one of the bodies with his shoe with a sort of vicious satisfaction. “I crashed their next _gathering_ . Tyrannus may have made me take those Death Watch shabuir on, may have made it so I couldn’t protect the ad’e, that I couldn’t _help_ them, but he sure didn’t think to protect the demagolka  di’kuts  from _me_.”

Jango looked around the room, lost in thought while grief and satisfaction warred across his face. Obi-Wan thought about turning around and giving him a moment of privacy in a space that was clearly the source of conflict for him.

That’s when he saw it. 

Despite having been still in death a moment before, Obi-Wan spotted a hand reaching towards the other’s foot. “Jango!”

The warning came too late as the hand snaked forward and grabbed the back of Jango’s boot from the front then hauled it upwards, causing the Mando to fall backwards.

From the pile, there was a series of grisly sounds as seven broken bodies pulled themselves to their feet to loom over Jango who was staring aghast at the ghoulish figures. 

-x-

Jango couldn’t believe that Dred Priest was standing before him again. In their last encounter, Dred had said something totally unimaginable… Jango’s vision had gone red and when he had come back to himself, he found the karking _ shabuir  hut’uun  _ very, very dead at his feet. 

“I killed you.” Jango said breathlessly.

“Didn’t take.” Dred rasped mockingly and lunged. 

Before he could reach Jango’s stunned form, 75kg of Jedi landed on him and then used his spine as a springboard to launch himself at the next closest one. 

“We’re in your mind Jango!” Obi-Wan called breathlessly as he roundhouse kicked one of the armoured shambling forms into a wall, “Remember! Any resistance you face is part of the Sith construct… Probably.” 

“Probably?” Jango replied numbly, as Dred started to push himself back up.

“Likely!” Obi shouted as he threw Isabet into Rete. “Typically if someone’s trying to hurt you, they’re an enemy. Your mind shouldn’t…” He bounced into a flying scissor legs takedown with a grunt, “...be an enemy. So, Sith construct.”

Right. Jango shook himself slightly, to move past the shock of seeing Dred and the others “alive” again, and scrambled to his feet as Dred swayed slowly back onto his own.

If nothing else, it would certainly be satisfying to take the _ demagolka  _ down again for what he had done. A hook kick to the head followed by a tornado kick to the sternum sent the other stumbling back again. 

Obi-Wan and he spun around like a pair of whirling dervishes, exchanging opponents, and doing their best to take the zombies out of the fight. However, no matter how they struck, what nerve cluster they pinpointed, what limb they broke, or what other vulnerable place they targeted, the murdered Cuy'val Dar  kept getting back to their feet. 

He kicked Ijen in the back of his head and had Dred in a rear-naked choke when his temper got the best of him and he roared in Mando’a “Why won’t you Death Watch bastards die already?”

“You hate your sister enough to wish death on her?” Dred replied back through bloody teeth. 

Jango immediately froze. 

The night when he went after these trainers who were abusing their power - surprising them in their little underground ring - he had easily decimated them. Even with the advantage of numbers, Priest had been the only one who had been able to last more than a few minutes against him. When confronted with the inevitability of his loss, Dred instead chose to throw Arla in Jango’s face.

Priest’s mocking laughter filled his ears once more, the normally-lilting Mando’a sounding harsh to his ears. “She is one of us, one of the Watch! She willingly swore to Vizsla in the end, once it was clear her former-brother was not coming back for her.”

Unlike that night, he didn’t let the almost incoherent rage overtake his senses at the reminder, though a fresh flush of anger rushed through him at the thought. He hadn’t believed Dred at first. Couldn’t. _Wouldn’t_ . However, after going through all the deceased verde ’ personal effects and accessing Kyr’tsad's  records through their comms and holopads, Jango had been able to confirm the truth of it.

Even if he had no idea where she was now, Arla was alive and had been broken into Kyr’tsad's pet assassin.

Jango had been horrified - was still horrified - especially because they had certainly done this due to him. Because of his connection to Jaster. Because he had become Mand’alor of the True Mandalorians. 

His ori’vod  had survived, and then suffered because of _him_.

Priest took advantage of his distraction and slipped the chokehold, followed by a  mirshmure'cya  strike of buy'ce  against his unprotected forehead, sending Jango reeling back. 

Dred followed through, his hits seeming to get faster and harder as he pressed forward, Jango just barely managing to block each strike. 

There was a shout, then a warm arm grabbed him around the middle, and he was up in the air, then back on the stair landing one level above. Obi-Wan looked rather ruffled with a nasty looking bruise on his cheek and tired from the Force use. He put his body between Jango and the stairs down, before crouching to catch his eyes.

“Jango, I think I might recognize this working.” he said, his tone urgent, “They got faster, smarter, stronger... more precise. What did that working… that _memory_ say to you?”

Jango blinked at him blearily, still somewhat...dissociated but he managed to fumble through an explanation. “Arla. Death Watch - _ Kyr’tsad  _ ...they didn’t kill my sister, they took her. Dred knew about it, had some of the indoctrination records...Obi-Wan, they have my sister because of _me._ ”

Obi-Wan looked between Jango and the stairs before dryly commenting: “They took your sister because of who you were at 9?”

That thought brought him up short, shook him out of the negative spiral his mind had been circling. “They didn’t take her because of me… aside from the fact that I wasn’t strong enough. But they broke her mind and turned her into an assassin because of who she was to me.”

Metal footsteps on the stairs below had Obi-Wan raise a hand then jerk it away followed by a screech of shearing metal as the bottom half of the stairs were separated from the top half and fell crashing to the ground. Keeping his eyes on Jango, Obi-Wan blandly commented: “You weren’t strong enough to fight a squad of trained adult killers at 9… if those are your standards, I dare say almost all of the galaxy is populated by failures.”

Jango opened his mouth to retort and Obi-Wan put up a hand, “Jango, there are a great many things in this galaxy that your effort or lack thereof are responsible for, and infinitely more that are beyond your control.” He held up some fingers and began to tick them off, “You are not responsible for the faction that attacked your family farm. It was not within your power to fight them off as you were a child who hadn’t yet even completed his verd'goten . You are not omnipresent - once Jaster rescued you and took you in, you had no way of knowing of her survival. You were not the one who decided to torture and hurt an innocent child. What happened to her was not your fault or responsibility; Kyr’tsad  is known for kidnapping _ad’e_ to turn them into their foot soldiers… They used you as an excuse after the fact, to hurt you. Do not let them have that victory - do not cheapen her suffering and survival by making it about you. This isn't just about you, it never was.”

“If you decide to let your enemies live, they will live to make you regret that decision.” Jango quoted angrily, his chin jutted out stubbornly. “Jaster didn’t destroy the cult. After he fell on Korda 6, they became my responsibility to deal with.”

“Maybe so,” Obi-Wan answered diplomatically, “but Jaster fell on Korda when you were 19 Jango: they’d already had her for 10 years at that point.” He put a comforting hand on Jango’s shoulder, “As harsh as it is to say: not even the strongest, most mandokarla  verd  would have lasted that long in isolation; your ori’vod  had just finished her verd'goten  when your farm was attacked…”

“But…” Jango began hotly as he got back to his feet. 

“But nothing.” Obi-Wan said firmly, placing a placating hand on his chest and interrupting. “A 14 year old child would not have had a chance to endure that sort of intense conditioning, and a 9 year old would not have been able to do anything about it.”

“...She’s my ori’vod ” Jango said quietly, letting his frustration and anger fade. “I was brought up respecting traditional Mando’a values: deeper than just family, our _ Aliit  _ is everything. To find out she’s still alive… and _I did nothing..._ ”

“It’s devastating.” Obi-Wan said quietly as he looked over his shoulder at the reanimated verde  who were struggling to find a way up to them then back to Jango. “I can’t say I understand fully. Jedi view our family connections differently than Mandos but I sympathize.” He made eye contact with the other: “However Jango, do not let your passion overrule your sense! You should only take on what is your responsibility to bear, you _cannot_ carry the weight of the galaxy. Just fighting the past won’t change anything - while this is within your ability to fix, it was never your fault. You need to believe that.”

Jango sighed, looking mulish and disgruntled but acquiesced easily: “I’ll try but no promises.”

Obi-Wan looked at him wryly, and gestured down at the Kyr’tsad  verde  who were starting to work together to boost Dred up to the platform. “Normally I would accept that as a reasonable answer to overcoming decades of trauma and guilt. But if this is from Darth Sion’s playbook like I think it is, I quite literally need you to believe that…”

Gauntleted hands gripped the side of the platform with Dred’s head popping up shortly thereafter, “...or these di’kuts will keep coming and will get stronger and faster until they do kill us.”

“Excuse me?” Jango deadpanned, confused.

“No time! To quote my great-great-grandmaster: do or do not, there is no try!” Obi-Wan lunged forward just as Dred had almost pulled himself up, throwing himself at the Mando in a type of flying tackle. One hand reached around his right pauldron while the other arm cut across his neck and wrapped around the far shoulder, pinning his dominant hand and catching him in a pseudo headlock. The momentum from his lunge combined with Dred only having one foot on the platform and one hand on the ground to grip, was enough leverage to push them off the stair landing and send them back down a level.

Jango lunged to look after, and was relieved to see Obi-Wan bouncing around like a deranged Vulptex given sugar again, knocking verde  around and using their momentum against them. 

He would be fine alone for a few minutes. 

_...Karking Force_ **_osik! _ **Jango grumbled to himself. Okay. He needed to give up on his responsibility for what happened to his sister.

He could almost feel Obi-Wan’s theoretical swat at the thought. Not his responsibility. Apparently. 

...Dang it! He’s a Mando! Been told he’s mandokarla  through and through! He doesn’t know how to let go of _anything._

In fact, he’s pretty sure that was one of Jas'buir's  first lessons with him: you never let things go. Even when the galaxy tells you to move on, you don’t let it go because that’s how you lose things or allow things that shouldn’t be, to be forgotten.

...It is also an excellent quality to have as a bounty hunter.

If Obi-Wan was right, he needed to apply that obstinacy to his own bullheadedness and grief. He needed to parse what was within his control and what wasn’t: his duty to Aliit  compared to the actions of the past...This was going to take a while. 

-x-

Obi-Wan did his best to ignore the exhaustion trying to seep into his muscles and the sweat dripping on his brow. None of this was physically real, his muscles were only complaining because fighting for this long without pause was normally towards the upper end of his limits. 

He’d already noticed Jango’s efforts seemed to be working as the Kry’tsad he was up against were slowing down and their hits were getting weaker. This was a spot of evidence that he was right in the genre of the Sith construct, possibly even correct as to _which_ mental manipulation technique it was. 

He simultaneously hoped and dreaded this being Darth Sion’s Memory Entanglement technique. He hoped because he knew vaguely how to combat it and undo it, but dreaded because there could be any number of roots in memories anchoring the technique and there were no rules governing which memories they were. 

Obi-Wan repressed a groan as a fresh burst of pain raced across his bruised knuckles when they cracked against a gorget, desperately wishing that his sabre had followed him into this memory. 

While he was entirely capable, fighting barefisted against armoured Mandos was rather painful.

He followed the punch with an open palm strike into the breastplate sending that Mando reeling before jumping and snapping his legs out in a double kick to catch the two trying to flank him in their chins. 

Obi-Wan took advantage of the small buffer of space he’d managed to gain to just breathe for a moment. Jango needed to figure himself out soon because he wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. 

And hopefully Obi-Wan was right.

The Kyr’tsad  verde  were circling; it looked like they had finally managed to decide to attempt some semblance of tactics. Pity, that really pushed his estimated timeframe remaining up. 

Before they could close in however, the lights stopped flickering and brightened while a great sigh seemed to echo through the chamber: their bodies stilled before dissolving into the air, leaving a pair of beskar vambraces on the ground. Obi-Wan sat on the ground gracelessly, an almost-comical _thump_ sound following the abrupt movement. He huffed a laugh then called up “About time! You’re getting slow in your old age!”

“Put a cork in it jetii ,” Jango yelled back, sounding wrung out “and either get up here, or help me down there since you broke the stairs without consideration for those of us without your Force to _cheat_.”

Obi-Wan did laugh then, loud and carefree, and got back to his feet. He collected the vambraces from the ground then jogged and leapt upwards, the Force helping him make it to the landing. 

He then sat back down beside Jango, leaning into his space to wordlessly pass him the forearm armour. Jango looked at them with some confusion, examining them closely, before he put them on. 

“I don’t know if I let go of anything,” Jango admitted quietly. “I just came to the conclusion that if I spent my present regretting and trying to right the past, I might miss out on any future Arla and I could have. Whether or not I had any fault in the matter is somewhat irrelevant.”

“That is letting go,” Obi-Wan said, “It’s not about denying the hurt or pain that the memories cause, but is often about the choice to continue moving despite it.”

They sat in silence for a moment, before Jango commented, “So you know what that was all about?” 

“Not necessarily,” Obi-Wan hedged carefully, “I have, at most, an educated guess. At first I thought this was more in the lines of a deeply rooted “mind trick” but it is too entrenched and adaptive for that. You have too much control and free thought for it to be the Dark “dominate mind” technique. Quite frankly it also isn’t the Dark Shard technique considering how intact your memories and personality are.”

“That was a concern?” Jango asked, startled.

“Not really.” Obi-Wan replied. “It was just one of the only Force techniques I know of that could cause radical changes of behaviour. I’m sure Master Healer Che could probably rattle off dozens more but with my limited healing training, I could only think of four. The fourth one isn’t even from the emergency medic course but from a footnote in a history book I was reading about the Sith Wars. As far as anyone knows, it’s a dead technique - no one should know how to implement it. But… it seems to fit.”

Obi-Wan gave a small smile at Jango, “A bit of a short history lesson: Darth Sion was a Sith in the time of Mandalore the Ultimate and the Great Sith War, contemporaries with some of the nastiest names of the era like Darth Revan, Darth Malek, Darth Traya, and Darth Nihilus. He was known as the Lord of Pain and achieved a sort of immortality through the Dark Side of the Force and sheer strength of will.” Obi-Wan paused to be sure that Jango was following, then continued. “He had many large-scale and devastating techniques that received a lot of commentary in the records, like _Force Drain_ or _Force Plague_ while the smaller ones were barely footnotes as they were comparatively harmless, leaving their victim alive and functional. I read about one such technique that was labeled _Memory Entanglement_ where he would create sleeper agents through mental compulsion, which was rooted in multiple memories - making it difficult even for trained Force users to detect and remove.”

Jango paled at that so Obi-Wan was quick to continue, “Part of the reason it was so hard to detect was that it was a _mild_ Dark Side technique. While it affected the mind of the unwilling, it could only… push the victim to behave in certain ways. In some ways, it is simply like a long-lasting Force suggestion without the possibility of a strong-willed individual being able to overcome it and with the victim always aware of their actions. The technique is not full blown mind-control and the more atypical the behaviour being forced, the easier the roots should be to find.”

“So, if it is the… memory jumble, can we remove it?” Jango asked hesitantly, having lost most of his remaining colour at “mind-control.” He continued, “I didn’t want to have a million _ad_ but they are here and they are _mine_. Not the karking Republic’s cannon fodder! They have every right to what I can give them: I need whatever this is gone!”

“I only have an educated guess to offer, a specific answer is beyond my knowledge.” Obi-Wan said with a grimace then he leaned over and tapped first the gauntlets, then the vambraces. “But it seems to me, you are well on your way to reclaiming yourself and your mind. After all, didn’t you tell me that your _ manda  _ along with those of every Mandalorian is housed in their beskar'gam ?”

“Recover my _manda…_ huh.” Jango visibly perked up at that, fingers beginning to trace grooves in the metal. “How does that connect to memory?”

“Constructs like this need to be firmly anchored in the mind.” Obi-Wan said, thinking back to lectures attended with Bant so long ago. “For it to restrict your words and actions, it would need to be tied up in your sense of self - something more easily accessed through important memories. It is somewhat difficult to explain; so while they are connected to the memory, they also aren’t because the memory itself is unchanging and stagnant… Hmm. A better way of putting it is that they are rooted in what is attributed to that memory - which is why things aren’t playing out frame-by-frame as you remember: the construct is able to manipulate things within that moment it has chosen to protect itself because it isn’t a stagnant moment. ”

Jango looked at him exasperated for a moment before putting his head in both of his hands with a strangled “ _Karking Force Osik . _”

He then straightened, his hands pushing his hair back in a stressed induced gesture. “Okay. So what are the roots then? And how do we remove them?”

“I don’t know how many roots there are, or even _if_ this is an Entanglement mind manipulation!” Obi-Wan sighed, looking at his hands. “There wasn’t a lot of detail on the technique, aside from what I’ve already said - it just stuck with me due to the insidiousness of the technique. It could be that the number of roots is symbolic as could the memories chosen, or it could be totally incidental. There could be a specific number of roots needed, or as many or few desired by the Sith. Unfortunately, your guess is as good as mine.”

“I’d be interested in your guesses.” Jango replied, looking tired. “Your insight is the only one I have in Force things.” 

“I have one or two ideas but nothing concrete enough to share. Two datapoints is not enough to draw a conclusion…” Obi-Wan shrugged, feeling very frustrated.

Jango raised an eyebrow at him and waited patiently. 

It didn’t take long for Obi-Wan to crack a little: “I’m not comfortable really saying more until I have more evidence because what it might compromise our ability to objectively judge… but from what I’ve read, the Sith have a flare for the dramatic and any sort of… symbolism would be right up their alley.”

“Fine,” Jango grumbled, “keep your secrets for now you cagey space wizard...Where to then from here?”

“It’s your mind,” Obi-Wan reminded him, amused. “It is very difficult for me to say. If this is an Entanglement construct then we need to go to the next memory and destroy its root, whatever that may be.” He got back to his feet and offered a hand up to Jango. “Without even knowing what was going on, you found the door for Bandomeer and then the one for this rooted memory on the first try with aplomb. Let your instincts guide you - you know what doesn’t belong and your mind wants the wrongness gone.”

“I don’t want to be hopping through memories for the next week!” Jango groaned as he took Obi-Wan’s hand. “Is there any way for this to be done faster or more efficiently?”

“I don’t like to admit it, but I really don’t know.” Obi-Wan said with a wince. “It could be that the roots were laid in a specific order and we will need to find them in that order. Or it could be that your brain is making random connections to the different moments and will lead you accordingly… You are a man of well-honed instincts Jango, and I have rarely seen them lead you wrong. Where do you think we need to go to find the next one?” 

-x-

There were a few false starts as Jango struggled to interpret the vague _feeling_ that his instincts (and thus were from his subconscious, Obi-Wan explained) gave him, and took a few wrong turns. As they walked there was an occasional ghostly Kaminoan who they wandered past - or _through one_ disconcertingly enough the one time they went around a bend without looking.

Eventually he managed to lead them through the winding halls of Kamino into the heart of Tipoca City - the hub. The hub was one very long hallway that branched off into other spokes that connected the rest of it together. 

Jango grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand and tugged him through one of the interchangeable doors, seemingly at random but knowing that it was the right one. As he opened the door, Jango could see the faint glow around the exterior and wasn’t surprised to see that it opened to somewhere else entirely rather than another hallway. 

Looking out at the landscape on the other side, his heart sank right down to his toes upon seeing that it looked up at the base of familiar limestone stone escarpment framed by trees and under teal skies. He knew those veshok trees and the white cedars twining around one another with their craggy roots digging into the cracks in the sedimentary rock. He knew that one juniper tree that could be seen growing - impossibly - halfway up the cliff face, finding purchase for its roots out of stubbornness and spite. He certainly knew that parade of Ril-va Gull nests that could just barely be seen overlooking the smaller plateau below.

He didn’t like that they were looking onto this _particular_ location. 

He really didn’t want to do this but, the only way out was through. 

“Kark.” He breathed, already feeling familiar grief rising in his chest and he gripped Obi-Wan’s hand tighter than before. He might be a shu'shuk  considering his life lately, but certainly was no hut’uun ; so after taking a moment to collect himself, Jango moved forward once more. 

As before, when Jango began to go through, there was some resistance - though slightly less than Bandomeer, and less than what he met in Jas'buir's  library. Overcoming the push back, they stepped out onto the dry rock of a planet that haunted Jango’s nightmares only slightly less than Galidraan. 

They stood on part of the enormous escarpments that dominated the northern landscape of Korda 6 as the portal faded behind them, dissipating into nothingness. 

“Let’s...let’s just go.” Jango sighed, leaning into the “ _this way!”_ feeling in his core and picking a direction. 

The direction that he knew would lead to Jaster. 

-x-

It took them some time to walk to where the cliff face sloped downward enough while the level below rose upward enough to connect together: creating a spot where they could ascend to the higher level without having to chance a dangerous climb. 

Jango unerringly weaved through the trees, barely needing the feeling in his gut, in his _throat_ to lead them the right way. Everything so far that they’ve encountered has featured in his nightmares.

He was sure this encounter would be no different.

Jango tried to think, tried to prepare himself or at least to warn Obi-Wan what they’re likely to walk into, but his heart was in his ears and all he could hear was _ buir , buir , buir . _

He knew they’re getting close when he started to see the cliff ledge again, see the abandoned weapons, the broken and damaged shrubs, underbrush and trees - including visible blaster damage on the bark of the trees, some of which were even still smoking.

While Jaster had eventually succumbed to superior numbers and his wounds, his buir  had certainly not gone quietly. 

He steeled himself as they crested the small crag, knowing it was likely that they would either see the last of the fight or a body…

But.

While the devastation was the same: great craters scattered across the ground, a new cleft running deep into the rock right to the cliff edge, and an enormous musha tree trunk that had been cracked in two, bowing in place…

There…

Jaster was there. 

Not slumped at the base of the tree, fatal wounds riddling his body. 

But.

He was there across the newly made clearing.

Just.

Standing there. 

Standing there at parade rest, hand clasped behind his back, his cape blowing dramatically to the side with his buy'ce  turned to face them and totally unharmed. 

All at once immeasurable joy and suspicion coursed through him in equal parts.

On one hand, his Jas'buir  was here and unharmed. 

On the other, his Jas'buir  was here and **_unharmed_ **. 

If this was his memory, and all evidence indicated that the fight had come and gone, then...Jaster shouldn’t be within his reach. 

-x-

Obi-Wan was a little troubled by how… catanonic Jango had gotten. He grunted in acknowledgement when Obi-Wan tried to talk to him, even though no words left his lips. He moved at a speed that made it pretty apparent that he knew where he was going, having none of the hesitance he showed on Bandomeer or Kamino, but he also had no regard for the branches scraping and thumping back against his bare skin as he darted past. 

Obi-Wan was debating stopping them to try to snap him out of the disassociation when they reached the zenith of a small creg and were able to look down at the small battleground and the figure waiting there for them.

The sheer confusion and grief that hit the Force when he saw the armoured figure just made Obi-Wan all the more concerned.

He squinted trying to make out more detail, but considering they were more than 10 metres apart, he couldn’t make out any of the clan insignia, just the armour colours.

While not always the most helpful - as some Mandos just painted their armour based on what colours they liked best - the colour choices made by a verd  for their armour was often quite helpful in getting a read in what they were like as sentients and what they valued. 

Obi-Wan could see there was a black for justice undersuit, blotches of gold on the pauldrons and cuirass for vengeance, and red highlights on the helmet, pauldrons and cape to honour family. The armour panels were silver… Obi-Wan didn’t quite remember all of the amour colours, but as grey was mourning and metallic colours like gold were for big promises, the silver was maybe for duty to the dead.

All in all, a much stronger message than Kry’stad’s blue for reliability and black for justice.

Once they were within shouting distance, the other shouted something that sounded vaguely insulting in rapid-fire Mando’a causing Jango to respond in kind. 

While Obi-Wan was fairly fluent in the language, he hadn’t had anyone to practice with since Jango, so while he picked up words here and there - like _jare-la_ (and wasn’t that concerning…) - he was lost due to the speed of what was being said. 

Though there was something odd about that voice… something twinging uncertainly in the back of his mind.

However, the mysterious Mando’s message was kyber clear when they flicked their blaster rifle up into the air with their foot, catching it and then spinning it around his body to point the muzzle straight at both of them.

-x-

“Buir!” The word fell from Jango’s mouth unbidden, as his heart soared, despite his mind screaming about it being a trap. “You’re alright!”

Jaster shifted, coming out of a neutral parade rest to something more aggressive: his body language changing and buy'ce  angling so that he was looking down on Jango like he was a bug. Jango had seen him adopt this sort of posture when dressing down one of his Alor'e  who had really screwed up. It did not bode well that it was being directed at him. "No thanks to you. You left me to die.”

His heart tumbled right back down to his toes, cracking and chipping as it fell. 

It was a trap.

“But! I didn’t! I followed your orders to retreat! I trusted Montross to watch your back!” He replied hotly.

“You let your loyalty blind you, and didn’t bother to follow up.” Jaster called with a lazy drawl, though the venom in the words was apparent. “I’m shocked the prodigal son could find the energy to return. I didn’t think you would show your face to me after failing so hard to protect **my** people.” 

Jango reared back as if hit and loudly protested “ **Our** people!”

“No,” Jaster replied, voice dripping with disdain. “Not **our** people. If they were yours, you would have actually bothered to protect them! How long did the True Mandalorians and our codex survive after my death? Did you even wait for my body to cool before you threw the family into disaster?”

“That’s not true.” Jango snarled, stepping forward, unconsciously hunching his shoulders and widening his stance as though to take a blow. “I made mistakes, but I did my best!” 

“Your best? You ignored every lesson I taught you!” Jaster thundered right back, “Couldn’t be bothered to double check your intel! To check for leaks when missions kept going wrong! To retreat when the battle clearly couldn’t be won! To not be stupidly oblivious of danger while leading my people into ruin!" 

“I tried! They were grieving! I was grieving! All of eighteen and trying to somehow fill your boots, while Montross undermined me at every turn!” Jango growled, hurt prickling under his skin.

“Don’t blame others for your failings boy! Over 300 dead would be an impressive record if they weren’t all people who you were sworn to **protect!** ” He coldly rebutted, his hand waving dismissively. “There is no point in living in a community if we dont look after each other. And you? You only wanted to prove your prowess against the Jedi. You couldn’t take the _pain_ to care about those under your leadership.”

“Are you looking for a smack in the face?” Jango said, his voice shaking. His buir  had never pushed his insecurities like this, even when pointing out his flaws or trying to force a lesson through his stubborn mind. 

“Is it looking for a fight when you’re clearly only stating the truth?” Jaster snorted derisively, the sound audible through the vocoder, and flicked his rifle up to his waiting hands with his foot. Spinning it around to point it at him. “You destroyed everything I built. You abandoned your family. You did not lead, instead only acted recklessly leaving others to clean up after you. And now you dare to consort with the likes of a Jedi - and not just any Jedi but a family member of the one who ruined ours.” 

Jango froze, staring down the barrel while his buir  spat hate at him. The nausea, grief and _anger_ was like a fire in his stomach that threatened to spill up into his throat. 

But it was nothing less than he deserved. 

Before Jaster fired, the final words came, the verdict painful and condemning: “You are not my child.”

Luckily for him, Obi-Wan hadn’t been idle and the Jedi closed the distance between them to yank him out of the way, pulling him behind the shelter of the downed tree while the rifle rapidly fired off bolts all around them.

He couldn’t breathe. 

Couldn’t.

Not after hearing Jaster himself voice the condemnations that kept him up so late at night. “-go. JANGO!” He was being shaken when he managed to focus, looking up into concerned eyes. 

“What.” He said numbly.

Obi-Wan looked at him worriedly, “I caught maybe only one out of four words of that, but I know it was unpleasant. Are you okay?”

“Okay?” Jango scoffed, “How can I be okay with my buir  \- with Jaster - renouncing me?”

“Jaster? I thought they must have been a relative - Jango, his voice sounded just like yours.” Obi-Wan gave him a strange look, “And he didn’t renounce you. How could he have? To be blunt, we haven’t time travelled - Jaster is dead.”

Jango slowly said, “Right. We’re in memory space…” 

This damn Sith magic was taking advantage of his feelings and contaminating his buir's  memory. 

Jaster would have never said anything like that to anyone he had ever cared about, not even in a fit of temper. If a verd  had done their best and it had still gone wrong, he would have accepted that and helped them find training that would shore up their weak spot. He would have been even kinder if deliberate sabotage was involved. 

Jaster only asked people for their best - to do what they _could_ for him - and would never ask for more than that.

He may not have been thrilled with Jango’s choices after escaping slavery, but he would not have condemned him for the disaster that was Galidraan or for being made to abandon his people after being taken prisoner and sold into slavery. 

This realization crashed over him in moments, seconds. That fire that had been building in his gut, fueled by his own grief and self-loathing was rapidly doused with the realization that he was being manipulated. “It’s _toying_ with me. Using my **_buir._ **” 

“You’re in my way - you useless child-stealer.” A whipcord came flying from where the Sith-Jaster memory had circled around while they had been distracted, wrapping itself around Obi-Wan and yanking him off his feet with a cry as it pulled him backwards. As the cord retracted, Jaster brought up the rifle and attempted to fire only for a resounding *click* to echo across the rock. 

“Damn, out of charges.” He seemed unperturbed as he followed through with a swift kick to Obi-Wan’s head when the cord had been fully reeled back, and the Jedi was at his not-buir's  feet. His friend’s head lolled onto the ground as he slipped into unconsciousness.

That anger that had been building with no outlet, suddenly had one. With a direction to point it, he easily banked it, controlled it and honed it, he would _not_ stand for anyone using the memory of his Aliit  against him. Seeing Obi-Wan helpless at the feet of a man who would have loved to have met him (if only he had lived) just inspired him further.

Jaster was not the sort of fighter you could fight impulsively against. If the Sith-Jaster was pulled from his memories, his ability to fight would also surely reflect that.

However, he also didn’t have time to come up with much of a plan as the other pulled out a blaster and pointed it down…

Plan - step 1: get him away from his friend, step 2: get his blasters away from him, step 3: defeat him… somehow, step 4: profit.

He could do this. 

He raced forward with a half-step roundhouse to knock the blaster away, causing the shot to go wide. He then closed the distance to wrap a hand around the other’s wrist while bracing his opposite hand on the outside bend of his opponent's arm. A moment later, he brutally yanked his hand downward while the other remained braced and firm, immovable. 

Despite rising to the balls of his feet to prevent this outcome, Jaster’s arm bent the wrong way with a resounding crack and the blaster fell from twitching fingers. His arm had been fully extended to take the shot so the joint had been “locked” and unable to recoil even a little to absorb the force.

Step 2 was complete with Step 1 skipped (for now), only two more Steps to his plan. 

With his body crouched slightly from the yank, Jango’s closer hand (his right) automatically swept outward in a middle block, intercepting Jaster’s wild knee strike to his face and knocking it to the side. He then sprung forward to take advantage of the opening and swung a right hook followed by a reverse elbow strike to the same spot. However, closing the distance between them left Jango also exposed and he felt a vicious backfist connect with his cheek, staggering him a bit. 

From a solid decade’s worth of experience sparring and fighting, he used the momentum of the strike to twist into a back kick - knocking Jaster backwards, giving him some space and also pushing him away from Obi-Wan’s prone body. 

Pressing his advantage, he darted forward again and lost himself to fight, letting instinct block and strike for him: uppercuts, tornado kicks, spear elbows, hook punches, backfists, roundhouses, snap kicks, spinning elbow strikes, knee strikes, and, on one memorable occasion, biting. They went for joints and nerve points, places where old injuries and scars pulled awkwardly, and hoped to destabilize the other’s stance.

It was the sort of no-holds-barred spar he’d always wanted to have with Jas'buir , where he showed him how much he’d learned from him and could stand beside him as an equal.

Jaster had heaved him up and over in a shoulder throw, slamming him towards the ground. Having gone with it to reduce the impact, Jango rolled almost immediately to avoid the ax kick that followed. 

As he rolled, he felt something hard at his hip and he stopped, he found the dropped blaster at his hand level. Not letting himself think about it too much, he closed his hand around the grip and brought it up, firing. 

As the blaster bolt connected, Sith-Jaster shattered into dozens and dozens of rock pieces. The stone shrapnel fell quickly to the ground and was indistinguishable from other loose scree on the escarpment rock. Atop the stone were a pair of silver cuisses.

Panting, he grabbed the armour and got back up to stumble to where Obi-Wan lay unconscious. Checking that his friend was still breathing, he sat and put the armour on before flopping to the ground beside him, exhausted and sore. Noting that Obi-Wan was shivering slightly, he scooted forwards so that he was curled around him: blocking the wind and sharing his warmth.

He let his eyes fall closed.

Surely mind walking would allow for naps. He was very pro-nap, his mind and memories should be on the same page.

He relaxed and started to drift off, letting the weird magic of the mind space soothe and start to heal his hurts. 

Just before he fell asleep, he could have sworn he heard a warm voice rumble: “You are going to be fine my Jango. Look after my grandchildren, won’t you?”

-x-

Obi-Wan slowly returned to consciousness, head aching and sore. He stilled upon realizing there was a body behind him and an arm around his waist before recognizing it was Jango. A warm feeling grew in his chest at the thought of Jango being curled around him in sleep. 

Obi-Wan noted the new armour pieces on Jango’s thighs - that was another root gone - and took a moment to reflect on what he’d seen so far. What he knew for certain and based on what he had extrapolated from the Entanglement construct: the more atypical the behaviour forced on the victim, the harder it was for triggers and roots to integrate well in the mind or into the memories. Considering Jango working with Kyr’tsad  and acting as he did towards his clones was _very_ abnormal behaviour, the triggers and roots should be fairly easy to identify for a fairly untrained mind walker like him. 

In fact, from what Obi-Wan could see, they appeared easy for a non-Force sensitive to identify considering how easily Jango seemed to be leading them. The bounty hunter certainly seemed aware at some level about where the construct’s roots had been planted considering how he led them to the correct memories on his first try, and how easily he was able to counteract the roots…

Now it could just be that this _Darth_ Tyrannus was overconfident and was sloppy, or his memory choices for the roots were not for practicality, but for vindictiveness and maximum trauma.

Which wouldn’t surprise him as it seemed the Dark Side made sentients obnoxious about their own cleverness and they certainly enjoyed spreading the pain around.

Hmm. Obi-Wan thought back through all that they had seen so far, back through what Jango had said, and what he knew about the suspected Sith manipulation. 

And… it couldn’t _really_ be so simple, could it?

It was his first instinct, something his strength in the Unifying Force helped strengthen… it would also certainly fit within the dramatic flare and symbolism he’d come to expect from Sith traps and manipulations. 

Obi-Wan hummed absently, the noise rousing Jango from his nap. Jango looked fragile, but more settled - no longer at risk of going mentally comatose as he had been when they arrived at this memory. He released Obi-Wan and slowly sat up, rubbing a hand through messy curls and blinking blearily.

Now that he didn’t need to worry about waking Jango, Obi-Wan also sat up pressing their sides together in a wordless greeting. They sat there for a moment in the quiet while he continued to think; he had enough information, this would be worth bringing to Jango’s attention.

Obi-Wan’s expression was calculating as he looked intently at Jango. “Would you say that part of you that felt uncontrollably emotional about this day previously has settled and calmed?”

Jango yawned and thought for a moment. “Yes? That could be a way of describing I suppose… why?”

“Well…” Obi-Wan began faintly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, failing to notice how Jango’s eyes followed the movement. “Three data points all indicating the same thing makes me think there might be something to my idea from before.”

“Oh? Please do tell.” Jango said, leaning forward, curiosity and caution in his face. “Please tell me it means there is only one more of these to face.”

“Unfortunately not.” Obi-Wan said carefully, “If I’m right, there could be as many as seven more.”

Jango choked - now fully awake - then hissed “ _SEVEN!_ ” 

“Seven.” Obi-Wan said, nodding as he freaked out a bit himself. “At first I thought there might be two more but it didn’t make _sense_ and…” 

“Wait,” Jango interrupted. “I need you to walk me through this. I don’t understand where your mind just went.”

“Right.” Obi-Wan said sheepishly, drawing a deep breath and dispersing the manic energy back to the Force. “Where to start… Hmm. You know Jedi are empaths right?” At Jango’s nod, he continued, “It’s not something that is easy to turn off and it is hard to ignore when someone is broadcasting. Like you said, while we’re in here you’ve been feeling everything twofold Jango, so I’m peripherally aware of your emotional state. I’ve been trying to ignore it - it's only polite - but it means I have been somewhat aware of how you’ve reacted to things throughout this.”

“Great.” Jango said, his voice flat. 

Obi-Wan gave him a bit of a look, “I wouldn’t mention it and would continue to ignore it as best I could, but it’s relevant. From what little insight the Archives had to offer a Jedi Knight on Sith training, they have a code similar to ours but almost the opposite. To not go into too much detail: at its core the code promises passion, strength, power, victory, and freedom. Vague enough, but like the Jedi code, these simple words are full of meaning and potential. My first theory was that Bandomeer was rooted in the ‘Power’ tenet and that Kamino was the ‘Passion’ tenet. But, what I felt of your emotions during your confrontation with Jaster didn’t seem to fit any of those - in fact you felt rather a lack of them - and the more I thought about it Bandomeer also didn’t seem to quite fit what I had sensed from you at the time. So either my theory was totally wrong, or I was missing something.”

Jango nodded slowly, “Okay, I think I follow.”

“Thinking only about the three incidents and how you felt during them while trying to coincide that with the dissolution of the root and appearance of a new armour piece… the roots seemed to be placed according to the Jedi code. Our code stresses what is needed to remain emotionally sound and what to strive for, so the galaxy doesn’t have a number of sentients running around thinking they have the right to use telekinesis, suggestion, among other abilities against others without those powers. You are likely already familiar but they are simply: Peace, Knowledge, Serenity, Harmony and the Force. Simple words, yet ones even Masters continue to meditate on the meaning of and have to struggle to seek. In which case, finding peace in a highly emotional situation suits Bandomeer and overcoming passion to find serenity with Jaster works as well. Which one would best suit Kamino is hard to say, but I would suspect you found harmony amidst the chaos of your feelings for Arla… But why would a Sith use Jedi tenets? So I suspect it might rather be a mix of the codes.”

“…You really are a Jedi sometimes. That was a lot of spiritual whatsit.” Jango said, teasingly with quiet pride. His body and face revealed his exhaustion and grief though, leaning sideways onto his friend. “Pretty sure you’ll be up for mastery soon.” 

Obi-Wan felt the confidence and excitement that always filled him when teaching bleed out of him while embarrassment at the compliment and a bright blush came rushing in to fill the void. “...Thanks. It is kind of you to say Jango.”

“Anyway, so that’s it? Prepare for seven but hope for two.” Jango said wearily, slumping further into his friend.

“Exactly.” Obi-Wan said soothingly, blush fading as he reached around and rubbed a hand on Jango’s opposing shoulder. He was trying to be comforting but also knew there was nothing he could say or offer that would make up for having to deal with so much past trauma back-to-back. 

So they sat in the quiet and just allowed themselves the comfort of the moment.

-x-

Jango led them down the slope to the opening of a cave, the mouth of which was glowing a faint blue, then offered his hand to Obi-Wan. “To make sure we stick together.”

Obi-Wan smiled and took it, following as they pushed through the slighter resistance and found themselves in the darkened cargo bay of a Kuat Drive Yards Amphibious Interstellar Assault Transport/infantry gunship.

Jango took one look around the interior and started to curse up a storm, darting for the exit hatch and climbing down quickly.

Obi-Wan almost stopped him, to come up with a plan, but considering they were operating on best guesses and instincts, thought better of it at the last moment. A decision he regretted almost immediately as he climbed down the ladder and found that their new location felt like an active warzone. 

Actually… Obi-Wan dropped into a crouch to avoid a blaster bolt… it was exactly like entering into an active warzone. Blaster fire burst out of the thick clouds of heavy smoke that were coming off of nearby burning fields and distant shouts could be heard. 

Jango took off like a man possessed into the burning wheat before Obi-Wan could press him and get his bearings. Not knowing what else to do, he tied one of his obis around his mouth and nose before taking off running after Jango. 

He was a hard man to track through the smoke and burning plants, but eventually he found his way to a modest, small looking farmstead. There was a house, a barn, a small henhouse, two towering silos and a few small sheds. 

Most of which were also on fire or at least starting to smoke.

Deciding to start with the farmhouse which had a wide open door with smoke billowing out; Obi-Wan hesitated a moment before deciding this clearly _wasn’t_ misuse of the Force and used it to create a sort of bubble of clear air around his head. Enough that he could see and not breathe the spreading smoke.

He wasn’t able to find Jango in the house, so, cursing, he kicked down the door connecting the house to the barn. He ran through the tack room and onto the floor of the breezeway, where he found Jango kneeling on the floor beside the crumpled bodies of an older woman and man with a passing resemblance to his friend.

In that moment, Obi-Wan was fairly sure he knew exactly when and where they were. 

They certainly couldn’t stay in here for very long, if not because of the fire and smoke, then because he saw the flames spreading towards the grain and flour silos along with what was clearly a fuel storage cylinder of some kind. If their experience on Bandomeer, Kamino, or Korda 6 were any indicators, they wouldn’t be able to interact with any part of the memory aside from what the Sith construct was rooted in, but on the other hand the flames and smoke were still very much bothering him. 

He didn’t particularly want to find out whether or not an explosion would affect them or not. 

He extended his Force-granted clean-air bubble over Jnago’s head and called “Jango, we can’t stay here!”

“After everything else today, I can’t!” Jango whispered fiercely; barely turned his head to answer, his eyes fixed on the bodies, “I can’t leave my buir'e  behind again! I’m big enough to take them with me this time!”

“Jango, they’re already gone. This is a memory.” Obi-Wan replied, tugging at Jango’s shoulder. 

The other man reached out with unthinking desperation and his hand… connected. Oh _Force_ , Jango’s dead parents were involved in the Sith root. 

Wonderful.

“Fine.” Obi-Wan called, picking up the man in a fireman’s carry and hoping he wouldn’t come to life and fight him like the Death Watch verde  on Kamino had. “Get your mom and let’s get out of here! Those flames are getting close to the fuel tank and grain silos. Force only knows which one will explode first.”

Jango quickly changed his grip and reached out with his other hand, to pick his Mom in a princess carry. 

They then proceeded to hightail it back through the burning fields until one concussive shockwave followed by another in succession knocked them off their feet and sent them sprawling in the dirt and ash. They lay there for a moment as everything disturbed by the explosion began to fall back to the earth, crashing down to the ground around them. 

Obi-Wan had to frantically roll as what appeared to be a torn off piece of a grain silo dome came stabbing down into the ground where he had been lying moments earlier.

As the dust settled, Obi-Wan took a moment to just breathe. Just to think, less than 24 hours ago, Obi-Wan had just been entering Kamino’s atmosphere. 

Kark, he could use a nap. 

-x-

Jango had not been looking forward to whatever terrible memory his mind would throw at him next. It was one thing to carry around the burden of his failures and poor choices, and quite another to have all that anger and grief thrown back in his face. 

This day was doing terrible things to his emotional stability and mental compartmentalization, airing all of his past regrets and pain to be poked at. 

He hadn’t meant to get so caught up in his own mind (Ha! Was that a pun?) but when they exited into Jaster’s _Pathfinder_ \- a ship he hadn’t seen in a literal decade after the mess with Wessell that caused its destruction - into a cargo bay that hadn’t seen any of the Jut and Lut’s modifications, or Silas’ dent from slipping carrying that munitions box, or the scorch marks from Jango learning how to use a jetpack…

He had known where they were. 

Had known _when_ they were.

He knew that he couldn’t really change anything that had happened this day, but he couldn’t help but run for his buir’e and his old home. 

Stepping out and getting a faceful of that familiar warm air: smelling of bantha manure, corn, wheat, sage and _smoke,_ he almost wanted to turn around and leave. He had already faced losing ori’vod  Arla, and Jas'buir  today, did he also have to lose Myr'buir  and Jak'buir  all over again too?

He couldn’t. 

He’d shatter.

That the fields were already on fire meant that he was already too late, but that miserable hope didn’t fade until he ran inside their barn to find Tor _Karking_ Vizsla standing over the bodies of Myrtte Fett and Jakin Fett on the floor with his blaster out. 

The man smirked at Jango mockingly and then dismissed him, _turning his back to him as though he were not a threat_ and going to the side door.

Rage coursed through him at seeing the Kyr’tsad  commander anywhere near his buir’e and he moved to attack… but then he noticed flames moving ever closer towards his buir’e and he just… stopped. For once in his life, he ignored the hut’uun's  jeers and insults as he left to go ruin someone else’s life, and instead put out the flames licking at Jakin’s boots. 

He’d had enough of rage and despair today; going after a memory in an attempt to feel better wouldn’t change anything.

He’d look after what he could instead.

He vaguely registered Obi-Wan arriving and trying to get him moving again, but he just couldn’t take his eyes off their bodies. His old regret that he had been unable to save his buir’e or tend their bodies rearing its head again.

When he had rescued him on this day so long ago, Jaster had taught him that there was no shame retreating when things went wrong, that it was important to get over any pride and abandon a losing plan: it was always more important to protect the living. Even as they hid in the irrigation pipes and the farm burned down around them, Jaster kept his calm and tried to reassure Jango. 

But he’s not a helpless ad  now, he’s strong enough to look after them now, if only in his memory. 

Thankfully Obi-Wan noticed what he didn’t in his mental spiral - that unlike WakPif, the Kaminoans and MSE-droids earlier, he can touch his buir’e. On autopilot he picked up the still body of Myr'buir  while Obi-Wan picked up Jak'buir's  and they began to run. The explosions happened - and oh he remembers crouching in fear in the great pipe and shaking at force of shockwave and knowing that his buir’e were well beyond his reach - and then he was staring up at blue sky; Myr'buir  and Jak'buir's  bodies safe on the ground between him and Obi-Wan. 

“Jango,” Obi-Wan croaked, sounding winded, “what in the Force were you thinking?”

“It isn’t okay what happened to them.” Jango answered, “It will never be _okay_ , but it's what brought me to Jaster and the Haat’Mandoade . I can’t regret that, but I always regretted that I was unable to give their bodies the rites that they deserved. When Kyr’tsad  came to the farm, my buir’e had me hide and I never saw them again… When I entered our yaim  today, Tor Viszla was there over their bodies…” Jango craned his head over to stare at Obi-Wan, “Obi-Wan, I cannot remember that because I never went back after being told to run. This darjetii’osik … Can it show what was true? Or is it pulling from my nightmares?”

“I’m sorry my friend but I have already told you what little I know about the _Entanglement_ construct.” Obi-Wan sat up to look him in the eye, “But if I had to guess, given that the Sith thrive on fear and hate, it probably takes your memory and fills in any gaps using what you dread and dream about.”

Jango let his head fall back onto the dirt to stare up at the sky, smoke swirling around them. “Good. That’s good.”

They lay in silence for a moment, letting aching bodies rest before getting back to their feet. While time had long since moved past this moment, the fires in the field extinguished, the rubble settled, and what usable things remained claimed by remaining neighbors... In his mind, this moment was now and it was real... He wanted to proceed accordingly. 

“I know this isn’t real but,” Jango looks down at his buir’e then over at Obi-Wan, “We...We have time? Right?” 

“It’s real enough.” Obi-Wan read his meaning easily and put a hand on his shoulder, saying softly “Take all the time you need, I’ll keep watch.” 

Jango nodded in brusk thanks, then got to his feet and began to scout for a good place to lay his buir’e to rest. As he walked, he also kept an eye out for something to use as a bucket to gather some water for washing off soot and grime, and for good sized rocks to build a cairn. He hoped to also find some of the peace lilies that used to grow around here, but with the fire, he wouldn’t hold his breath.

He would take the time to cherish the moments he has now to look after his buir’e in death as they had looked after him in life. 

-x-

Obi-Wan walked around the fields, keeping his distance as Jango built a cairn of stone and tended to his parents. He didn’t see any threats, but there had been blaster fire earlier and Jango said he had seen Tor Vizsla - so better safe than sorry. 

He did his utmost to keep Jango in his sight, but considering the fire, followed by the explosion caused either by the pressurized fuel tanks exploding or the flour silo exploding (or both), much in the area had been leveled. He could see hundreds of metres in all directions at this point.

As he surveyed the area where the barn had once been, a bit of shine caught his eyes. A pair of pauldrons glinted there among the rubble. 

He hadn’t been sure, but it looked like Jango found what he had needed here. He scooped up the armour and continued to walk the perimeter. He’d give the pieces back to Jango once he was done; he didn’t want to interrupt. 

-x-

An hour later, his eyes plainly red around the edges though he was now dry eyed, Jango found him sitting and keeping watch on top of a low stone wall near the ruins of the farm.

Wordlessly, Obi-Wan offered the pauldrons.

The Mandalorian moved to sit beside him, eyes warily scanning the horizon as he did so... Looking for something else to come out of the left field and bring a hurt that he’d forgotten rushing back in. After a moment's indecision, operational security won out and he chose to sit beside him but facing the opposite way. “If your theory is right, about the Jedi and Sith tenets… which ones are left?”

“Depends if they used them all, or if they even used them at all. If they did use them, all then six remain.” Obi-Wan slowly put a hand around his chest then pulled him unresisting into a side hug. “On Bandomeer you pushed past your emotions and found peace, while on Korda 6 you pushed past your desires and saw to the truth, gaining serenity. Which means that the remaining Jedi tenets should be ‘There is no Ignorance, there is Knowledge’, ‘There is no Chaos, there is Harmony’ and ‘There is no Death, there is the Force’... Though it could also be that you gained knowledge and instead need to demonstrate serenity. Hard to say.”

Obi-Wan frowned as he considered his next words. “The Sith Code that I’m aware of is ‘Peace is a lie, there is only Passion, through Passion I gain Strength, through Strength I gain Power, through Power I gain Victory, through Victory my chains are broken - the Force shall free me.’ If that is the code they used, then you embracing it to undo its mechanisms doesn’t make sense. Considering you’ve had a Sith working in your head - in many ways poisoning your mind - it is much more logical to me that you needed to embrace the Light teaching while rejecting the temptations of the Dark. From what we’ve seen so far, the events seem to line up with this idea: rejecting passion clouding your objectivity with Arla and rejecting power and vengeance by tending to your buir’e rather than chasing Vizsla. After each instance, you regained bits of your armour - regaining part of yourself.”

“So then there’s Knowledge, Harmony, and Death from the Jedi Code, and Strength, Victory, and Freedom from the Sith Code left.” Jango nodded, leaning a little into Obi-Wan and the subtle comfort of the contact. He turned his head and looked Obi-Wan in the eyes, “I don’t know what memory it's rooted in, but I can tell you I would have difficulty rejecting freedom. Knowing what a total lack of freedom is, I would struggle with that.”

“The Sith code is somewhat misleading. From the historic accounts we have on notable Dark side users, it isn’t about personal freedom so much as it is freedom to act on impulse - to seize what’s desired, and to reject and destroy what they don’t want. It’s Victory at any cost, even if everything else is dead and wasted at the end, and your original purpose is long since gone. Strength is more about influence over others - how you can manipulate or force sentients to do what you want even at the cost of themselves. You’re a good man Jango, and you know what it’s like to have that strength, that victory, and that freedom turned against you. I doubt any of those would seriously tempt you more than any other morally good sentient.”

“However, all of this information might be moot,” Obi-Wan said quietly after a moment’s reflection, “If I misidentified which ones we’ve experienced or if I’m wrong about their source entirely.”

“I’m sure you’re right. You have more experience in this than I do and it makes sense to me.” Jango replied, “There’s no need for self-doubt Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan shook his head wordlessly, when they were flying by the seat of their pants and only going off his guesswork, there was always a need for self-doubt. Just because he didn’t have any other theories, didn’t mean this one was right.

“I mean it, no self-deprecation,” Jango rolled to his feet and turned to look at him sternly, “I’ve been relying on you all this time and you have yet to lead me astray.” Jango pointed a finger so that it was just brushing up against the Jedi’s forehead, “It’s your educated guess: given your education in this area, I will take it over my flailing or the guesses of other sentients. Don’t let your head get in the way of your accomplishments and knowledge.”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan acquiesced, though he knew he was unlikely to change his opinion on his value. “Where to now?”

Jango got a peculiar look on his face as he squinted, “...the irrigation pipes I think. It’s where I hid with Jaster and the other Haat’Mandoade  until Kyr’tsad  moved on.”

Obi-Wan got to his own feet with a groan, for non-existent muscles, his sure were complaining. “Well, lead on then Macduff.”

Jango began to walk before turning to look, confused, at Obi-Wan, “Who is Macduff?”

“No one,” Obi-Wan replied, blushing red, “a fictional character in a play. A sign I’ve been spending too much time with Mace and his lineage.”

-x-

They left the smoking fields behind, stepping through the door with only a hint of resistance, and walking out into biting cold and onto the crunchy snow, the door vanishing behind them. 

In front of them were rolling hills covered in a relatively undisturbed blanket of snow with stubborn coarse grasses poking out in places, and intermittent copses of evergreen coniferous and bare deciduous trees. To their right, there was also the partially frozen, burbling headwaters of a river a few dozen metres away.

“This is Concord Dawn.” Jango breathed, seeming almost hypnotized with how absently he walked forward. “In winter. While Jaster had a home on Mandalor, this was our yaim . It was here that he and I would go to when he wanted to take a step back as Mand’alor for a bit and just be a small family.”

“That sounds like a nice memory.” Obi-Wan commented as he followed. 

“Some of the nicest ones that I have.” Jango said before swallowing harshly. He then pointed and gruffly continued, “If the past memories are any indication, this will be none of those but rather be one of the two times I returned after and the yaim  was gone: once with Boba or the other time when I was ambushed by a New Mandalorian bounty hunter.”

Obi-Wan let out a pained sound and grimaced. He then brightened a little as a thought occurred to him “...these memories seem to be going Jedi-Sith-Jedi… This one should be a Jedi tenet designed to test your spirit rather than poke at a weakness and tempt. It might not be so bad?”

“Really.” Jango turned to look at him deadpan and threw an arm out wildly, to gesture at where they were and at all the nonsense that had happened before. “Because having dar’Jaster lambast me for my failings and being stuck underwater, in a tunnel collapse with the imminent threat of drowning, suffocating or exploding was so pleasant.”

“Right.” Obi-Wan commented dryly after a moment, “wouldn’t be a test of spirit if it didn’t hurt a little. Should have remembered that… Where’s the yaim ?”

Jango shrugged nonchalantly and pointed, “The burnt out shell of it is just behind the knoll there.”

“It was burnt?” Obi-Wan started, surprised, “what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Jango said sorrowfully. “It was intact after Korda 6 when I came here to put his affairs in order. Then Galidraan happened, and well... you know the rest from there. Once we got out of Bandomeer and I managed to make my way back, it was gone. I don’t know of anyone else who knew about this place, so it is a mystery.”

Obi-Wan put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed comfortingly. Jango, his face contorted in grief, reached up and clasped it tightly. He took a shaky breath then turned away, “If there’s something here and it's tied to anything of significance, the darjetii root will be there.”

They walked down the small hill they were on in silence, the crispness of the snow crunching pleasingly under their shoes; then around the knoll Jango had indicated. 

Obi-Wan had seen plenty of devastation in his time, but it was always heart-rending to see the remains of someone else’s life. What had once been a modestly-sized dwelling had burnt down to its bones, with twisted beams of metal jutting up at the sky held up by broken up stone and ash. In the distance, he saw the snail-shaped grey and red hull of Slave I.

Jango made a choked sound from beside him, so Obi-Wan commented that he’d go scout and walked a little further ahead to give him some space. 

Considering they were in Jango’s memories and what they had seen so far, Obi-Wan knew there would be plenty of things that he would see, that his friend would perhaps prefer he didn’t. He already felt poorly for his invasion of Jango’s mind before, even if it had been necessary to remove many of the traps left behind by that Sith. He would give Jango the kindness of privacy where he could. 

Returning from walking the perimeter, he rejoined Jango who was standing in what remained of the entryway. 

“I know which memory this is.” Jango said softly, “It was the first time I came back here… When I held Boba in my arms for the first time, back on Kamino, there was a moment where it felt like everything bad that had ever happened to me… hadn’t. How could anything terrible have happened when there was such a bundle of _good_ in my arms?” Jango smiled sadly as he began to walk forward, picking his path delicately through the rubble. “It was like my soul sang in rightness at having my son cradled, at holding his small body close to mine. Of course, reality came back a moment later when I realized I would be having well over a million ad’e that I would never be able to hold or claim.”

Obi-Wan wordlessly followed him, walking through what had once been the kitchen then the dining room. This was the home layout he had found Jango’s mind in when he first entered it; it was fairly jarring to see it mere hours later - fallen and destroyed. 

“Once Boba was a year old, I had an opportunity to get off Kamino and I took it.” Jango paused briefly before steeling himself and climbing over a pile of rubble, entering the remains of a room. “Took my only ad  here; I had wanted to take him to Jas'buir's  library, to introduce him in some way to his ba’buir . That’s when I found that there was nothing… nothing left.”

Jango feelings were all over the place, to the point that it sounded almost like a discordant symphony to Obi-Wan’s senses. In Jango’s heartache, there was such bottomless grief mixed with regret, shame, loneliness, shock, doubt, and anxiety, with just the smallest hint of bitterness.

Hurting for his friend, Obi-Wan tried to push away the burning sensation in his eyes, but even so, tears still welled up and fell in response to Jango’s distress. He was not ashamed of the reaction for all that the tears were inconvenient in comforting the other. After all, how could his own feelings not resonate in self-same grief when faced with someone else's silent and absolute devastation?

“I eventually got the words out.” Jango said haltingly, “Said the gai bal manda  and named my ad  outside for Jas'buir  to know him. You might not recognize it, but this was Jaster’s study and library. My buir was the biggest nerd among the Mando’ade , this was his special place. If he lingered anywhere in the ka’ra , it would be here…” 

Jango looked around, heedless of the tears slowly running down his face, lost in the memory of the moment. 

Obi-Wan thought back through all that had been said and what he had guessed about the Sith manipulation. 

If he was right, then based on what Jango said, he was fairly certain that this was a Jedi tenet root, though he wasn’t sure if it was Knowledge or Harmony; though it certainly wasn’t Death or Serenity. A tenet that tied in in some way to family, Boba, and the clones. 

But how to test that? 

“Jango,” he began, “There isn’t anything here to fight or fix. If my guess is right and this is an Entanglement construct rooted in your mind with the Sith code and the Jedi code... then whatever has been used to root it to you in this memory must be through your sense of self. I don’t mean to poke at a hurting wound, but what are you thinking about right now?”

Jango jolted, as if he’d forgotten Obi-Wan was there, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes roughly. “I was thinking that Jaster would have been so excited to be a ba’buir  and to meet Boba… and just how _disappointed_ he’d be in me that he was unable to meet the other million or so ad.”

Promising for his theory. 

He then realized something, hesitantly he asked: “Jango… you called them _ad_. Something you said you couldn’t before. Is there stopping you from claiming them still now?”

Jango froze where he stood, standing so still he may as well have been a statue. 

Obi-Wan froze too, worried he had somehow triggered a mental trap or trigger in asking.

“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad  Flyby.” An astonished grin broke across Jango’s face as the words tumbled from his lips unhindered and smoothly. “Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad  Hound! Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad  Gree! Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad  Alpha-17! Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad  Wolffe! ...” 

And just like that Jango was off, the discordant symphony of his feelings smoothing out and coming together more and more with each name listed following the adoption vow. He rattled them off quickly, as though not claiming them as his own for even a moment longer was painful.

Each name or designation numbers rolled off his tongue, coming out different than how Jango would say the name of an acquaintance, friend, or even an enemy. They were said in a way that was soft, kind, and caring; in the way that you know that your name is safe in his mouth.

Jango looked ecstatic with each name, even while his eyes welled up once more but unlike all the times in their journey so far, it wasn’t to do with grief or pain, but sheer overwhelming relief and joy.

Obi-Wan gave a small smile and settled down in a corner of the room to meditate, imagining it would be a while before Jango would run out of children. Jango certainly hadn’t changed that much since Bandomeer, he still felt the need to give everyone a home and he was certain he had learned as many of the ad’e names as possible in case this day ever came. 

-x-

Jango rattled off the last name that he could remember, a warm fire settling in his chest. It was wonderful to say their names, to feel each syllable roll off his tongue without them being stifled and trapped in his throat. 

He may not have been able to recognize them aloud because of whatever Darth Tyrannus had done, but that hadn’t stopped him from trying to acknowledge them in some way, even if it was just in his own mind. He had done his best to tell them apart and learn their names, hoarding them like a Greater Krayt Dragon in his memory. True, the vod'e having identical faces had made it somewhat difficult but it was his face - with a bit of time, he could recognize all the minute differences. 

He knew them.

He would do it all again once awake. He would go from ad  to ad in the facility and make sure that they all knew that they had Aliit  in him (except Skirata’s boys, they were already claimed and adopted - maybe they’d accept him as ba'vodu ?)… if they wanted him back. 

He couldn’t help himself, but to list off their names as quickly as he could, in many ways afraid that another one would march on ahead before he could be claimed into Jango’s Aliit . He was not sure what the Ka’ra’s policy was on any unclaimed ad; that had never been included in any of his lessons or any of the stories growing up. For a Mandalorian leaving an ad  unnamed and without a clan was anathema: there was no lesson on how to deal with it, because it would never happen to someone who was Mando’ade .

… He really didn’t like what that implied about him. 

No one in the galaxy truly knew what came after, but he hoped the Fett and Mereel Aliit  who were scouting ahead were also waiting for his boys. He had said all the names of the little ones who had gone on ahead already, on the chance that the Ka’ra would recognize the posthumous adoption and make sure that they would have mentors and guides, along with family to look after them if they wanted it. 

His knees had gone numb from kneeling as long as he had, and they groaned when he got back on his feet. Despite the pins and needles feeling in his legs and the pain echoing throughout his limbs, he felt more settled in his skin then he had in a long time. 

Once he was sure that his legs wouldn’t give out underneath him, he walked over to where Obi-Wan sat cross-legged to the side. As he went, he saw a glint out of the corner of his eye, whirling and ducking, he was relieved to see it was just the sun reflecting off a pair of beskar greaves, not sunlight bouncing off a blaster muzzle. 

Picking up the pieces, he again examined them closely, looking for any booby traps or flaws. Once he determined they were fine, he went and sat beside Obi-Wan, putting them on then nudging the Jedi. 

“I’m not entirely certain what happened,” he started, gesturing towards the armour on his calves, “but after I finished my vows, I found these perched on top of the rubble. I feel… relieved really,” Jango commented, absently scratching at the back of his head and looking away. He would be relieved when this was over and he didn’t have to talk about feelings so much anymore. “It was really bothering me to be unable to claim them.”

Obi-Wan hummed, “Would you say that part of you that felt previously in dissension is back in place?”

“Yes? That could be a way of describing I suppose” Jango thought for a moment. “Oh. You think this was the ‘There is no Chaos there is Harmony’ tenet.” 

“I suspect so,” Obi-Wan replied, “which leaves Knowledge (or Serenity) and Death of the Jedi tenets, and Freedom, Strength, and Victory for the Sith.” 

“It’s oddly convenient that the Sith have such a flair for the dramatic that we can figure this out.” Jango commented wryly, though he sounded exhausted. “Though I’m not complaining.”

“My friends used to tease me that my lineage must have a hint of Dark in it because of how over-the-top we can be.” Obi-Wan laughed, “though in this case I can gladly say ‘not my padawan, not my lineage’.”

-x-

**Poor Obi-Wan, if only that were true.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ******SPOILER WARNINGS: There is nothing graphic - any deaths occur offscreen - but to remove Sith mechanism from Jango’s head, Obi-Wan and he end up reliving/interacting with several traumatic memories including: a tunnel collapse in the deep sea mine of Bandomeer, the loss of his parents and the farm, the aftermath of Jango killing the Kry’stad squad abusing their authority, and the Sith manipulating Jango’s insecurities to have a totally OOC!Jaster conversation.**
> 
> This was up so quick as most of it was already written - that will not be the case for the next one as Chapter 3 is only outlined while Chapter 4 is about three quarters complete. (You ask - Why is the ending done when the middle isn’t? It’s because this was only supposed to have been 2k smut and anytime I tried to resolve anything, another loophole or idea would rear its ugly head that needed to be tied in :P My friends on Discord keep laughing at me with each new word count. **It was only a kiss, how did it end up like this?**)
> 
> I will be taking a brief break from this story to post some stuff for the JangObi week February 1-7 before going back to work on Chapter 3. That said, I hope to have the next update ready for Valentine’s day at the latest. 
> 
> The air bubble physics for their make-shift diving bell might be a little sketchy but I was inspired reading about the real life story of Harrison Okene. The poor man was trapped 31 metres underwater for three days in 2013 after the boat he was on capsized. Because of the water pressure, the gases are compressed reducing the amount of square centimetres of oxygen needed to sustain someone. 
> 
> Yes, Magnesium can burn underwater. No, I don’t know how. Dammit Jim, I’m a historian/linguist not a scientist!
> 
> We had this discussion on Discord about armour and it’s cultural significance. What we know from current canon and Legends is that Mandalorians are largely a martially nomadic people. As such, when it comes to battle, this is probably the hierarchy of ideal results: Victory > retreat > death > surrender. Surrender would be the ultimate defeat because you would lose what little you had (and it’s all important when you're transient, non-important things are heavy and not worth moving unless they’re small), and are left without any resources or recourse - possibly also having doomed everyone else you're with. Essentially as nomads they’re always with their clan and home is where your clan is - you don't want to surrender your home/family. So when Jango lost his armour, even though it wasn’t through surrender but treachery and betrayal, it was a huge loss for him. In losing his armour - he also lost his home, family, and identity. 
> 
> I calculated Obi-Wan’s weight based off DnD because I felt weird googling it (is this any less strange?): base human height 4’8”+ [2d10] (or in this case 14 as Ewan MacGregor is 5’10”), then base weight of 110lbs + [height mod x 2d4 = 56] so Obi is 166lbs or 75kg. :P
> 
> Myrtte Fett and Jakin Fett are the names I made up for Jango’s parents. I looked up Mando names and tried to create something similar that made them sound connected to their childrens names.
> 
> My old Polish housemate taught me the expression “Not my monkey, not my circus” which I absolutely adore. The meaning of this idiom is: not my problem, this is not even remotely my problem. I’ve decided the Star Wars universe has two versions of this: “Not my droid, not my foundry” and the Jedi variant “Not my padawan, not my lineage” (and doesn’t Obi-Wan wish that were true when we move to part 3). 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations  
> Jetii: Jedi, singular  
> Haran: hell. Literally: “destruction”, “cosmic ”  
> Osi’kovid: shithead  
> Di’kut: idiot  
> Ad/Ad’e: child/children  
> Buir/Buir’e: parent/parents  
> Aliit: family, clan, identity  
> Demagolka: someone who commits atrocities, a real-life monster, a war criminal - from the notorious Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic, Demagol, known for his experiments on children, and a figure of hate and dread in the Mando psyche.  
> Buy'ce: helmet  
> Parjai ra rohak, ogir'olar burc'ya haat: Made up Mando'a idiom “through thick and thin”, literally “victory or defeat, either way a true friend”  
> Jas’buir, Myr’buir and Jak’buir: Jaster parent, Myrtte parent and Jakin parent (since Jango had three parents he would claim, this is how he would differentiate them? Like Pops, Dad, Da or Mum, Mother, Ma. I thought it was cute…)  
> Aliit’yaim: family home, clan compound  
> Osik: shit  
> Jetii’kad: lightsaber  
> Vor entye: Thank you, literally “I accept a debt” - sincere thanks  
> Beskar'gam: Armour  
> Shabuir: bastard, screw ups  
> Yaim: home  
> Oya: A positive and triumphant exclamation with several meanings: “Let’s hunt!”, “Hooray”, and “Stay alive!” among them  
> Vod: sibling - actual or brother-in-arms sort  
> Ka’ra: stars. Also connected to the ancient Mandalorian myth of a ruling council of fallen kings  
> Cuy'val Dar: Those Who No-Longer Exist.Trainers recruited by Jango  
> Verde: warrior  
> Verd’ika: little warrior  
> Hut’uun: coward (terrible insult)  
> Kyr'tsad: Death Watch  
> Ori’vod: big sibling  
> Mirshmure'cya: headbutt, literally “brain-kiss”  
> Verd'goten: Mandalorian rite of passage. They begin martial and survival training at 8 years old, and this trial was their “exam” to show how well they’d learned these skills  
> Mandokarla: having the *right stuff*, showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue  
> Manda: Soul  
> Darjetti: Sith literally “not a jedi”  
> Shu'shuk: disaster, big screw-up  
> Alors: Captains  
> Ba’buir: grandparent  
> Gai bal manda: adoption ceremony, literally “name and soul”  
> Mando’ade: Mandalorians, literally “children of Mandalore”  
> Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad: adoption vow - literally “I know your name as my child”.  
> Haat’Mandoade: True Mandalorians  
> Ba'vodu: uncle/aunt


End file.
